


The Rachel: Andalite

by LilacSolanum



Series: The Rachel [2]
Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: 90s Cultural References, Alcohol, Amputee Menderash, Andalite Worldbuilding, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Hollywood Marco, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Paranoia, Perhaps Too Many 90s Cultural References, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Sequel, Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-01-01 03:28:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 86,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12147663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilacSolanum/pseuds/LilacSolanum
Summary: After The One demands the Animorphs chase him, the crew of the Rachel lands on Andalite and figures out what to do next. Part Two of my take on the Animorphs post-war. Read Part Onehere.





	1. Aximili

**Author's Note:**

> So let's talk about [Cavatica](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavatica/pseuds/Cavatica). She is my beta, which is in and of itself a Herculean task as I am UNCONCERNED with grammar or logic or even, sometimes, completing sentences. I also have no idea where my Andalite worldbuilding begins and hers ends. If you haven't read [Lies Agreed Upon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9461528/chapters/21405584) yet, you are hurting yourself. Not only is it a beautiful romance about two incredibly broken people healing as best they can with one another, it's also full legit ass bomb ass proper ass sci-fi novel with amazing worldbuilding. All my Andalite worldbuilding is either 1. directly stolen from Cav, 2. subconsciously stolen from Cav, or 3. a result of thinking "Okay, Cav did it X way, how can I do it Y way?" I also lifted her [Andalite Time Meta](http://acavatica.tumblr.com/post/156232717687/andalite-time-meta) straight from her glorious brain that can do stuff like "math" and "numbers" and "organized thought in general." All my Animorphs fics are a love letter to Cav but like, this one especially just wouldn't exist without her. thx bae

I remember finding the DNA sample and holding it in my hand. I remember picking off just one hollow piece hair. I remember reporting back to my F.O. Then I remember finding myself in my old human morph, looking straight at Tobias, standing in a depressing Yeerk vessel.

It was not the reunion with Tobias I had often envisioned.

I have very rarely visited Earth since the end of the war. It is not, entirely, due to a lack of want. An extended Earth stay would be quite pleasurable. I do miss many things, like the abundant variety of food, the unique and almost spicy feel of Earth grass soaking into my hooves, and the many intriguing Earth entertainment programs. While a handful of these things have made it back to homeworld, much of it has been altered. The homeworld Cinnabon, for instance, does not have easy access to Earth livestock or animal byproducts. To compensate, liquid from the s _ hilarn _ fruit is used to replicate bovine breast secretions, and  _ illynva _ algae is used as a binding force in the Cinnabon mixture. It is a worthy and much more ethical approximation, but it is just that — an approximation. There is a field of Earth grass planted by the government for tourism’s sake, but the grass has been spliced with the homeworld’s hearty  _ lara _ plant, and I can feel a significant difference. Some Earth entertainment has been imported to homeworld, but much of it is boring to me. Many are films and documentaries about the Animorphs, but I feel little need to relive those experiences. Other imported pieces tend to be documentaries about Earth flora and fauna, which are rather boring if you have morphed many of the creatures on the planet. At my urging, the Electorate did broadcast a few compilations of  _ These Messages _ , which went over quite well with the public. However, it is the only truly fascinating Earth media I have managed to share with the people. I desperately wished to know what happened on  _ Days Of Our Lives  _ or  _ Passions. _ Those characters were as comrades to me, and I miss them dearly.

There were many fine reasons to take a brief leave to Earth for leisure, but there were also many difficulties. Frankly, I did not have time. It was a testament to my own successes. A trip to Earth takes anywhere from four days to three weeks in Z-space, and I would want to spend at least one week to justify the travel. To leave my post for that long would require much discussion and negotiation. After all, I was Prince Aximili of Earth. My attendance at meetings and war-councils, while largely symbolic, was still imperative. I held monthly lectures on humans and Earth culture, which are widely attended and often broadcast. There were many smaller appearances I must make throughout the seasons, even when I am not on active duty. I am a hero, and it is a hero’s job to inspire bravery in others. I did not take this role lightly.

I also did not  _ need  _ an Earth leave, at least in respect to contacting the Animorphs. I still spoke to whom I needed to speak. Cassie and Marco have both made plenty of contact with me; Cassie for professional reasons, Marco for indiscernible ones. I will always treasure my time serving under Prince Jake, but he is suffering from what is called the warrior’s quiet, and I often find our brief conversations disturbing. For me, it is enough to see those three on my occasional visits as Ambassador. It is fun, as humans say, to ‘catch-up,’ and then leave.

Yet, I would have milked every bit of my clout to request leisure time and visit Tobias. More than food, grass, and amusements, I have longed for Tobias. Of course, he had made himself unavailable. It was, initially, a joy to look upon his face, even in his human morph. His eyes were familiar. His smile was the same.

It was a brief but warm moment, quickly followed by chill and fear.

Tobias filled in the gaps in my memory. I did not allow the fate of the  _ Intrepid _ to cloud my thoughts, nor did I allow myself to dwell on Tobias  _ only _ speaking to me about The One, and not apologizing for avoiding me for nearly a full Andalite year. I quickly went to Menderash, and waited by his side in the small and cramped infirmary. The enclosed space made me anxious, but I rose above it. I wanted to make sure I was here when Menderash awoke.

Menderash-Postill-Fastill. A  _ nothlit.  _ A  _ vecol. _

In human parlance, Menderash is much closer to a traditional ‘Prince’ than I or Jake. Andalite spacecraft is built by the people as a whole, all in pieces, and then assembled at one of our three spaceports. My family designs ducts for air and Dome irrigation. Both Elfangor and I learned the craft from our parents before enlisting in the army. As is tradition, we would retrain once we were released from service. We learn once before experience, and once more after we reach maturity. It is the Andalite way. However, many families also make ducts. It is a simple thing. Not all pieces of spacecraft require expansive knowledge and inherent talent. Families like mine are simple roots of a flower. Sturdy, but blunt. Necessary, but indelicate. Our work was enough to give us a bit of leeway in Andalite society, but only in comparison to families that are not allowed to participate in the building at all.

Certain other families have much, much more weight in society. They are the petals of the Andalite fleet. Menderash-Postill-Fastill is from such a family, yet even more so. It is hard to explain. If other families are petals, than Menderash’s clan is a delicate drop of dew that reflects light off the flower just so. His family is so respectable that Menderash is as recognizable as I.

His family created our weapons.

The secrets of weaponry are not well known. While weapons are necessary, many Andalites find them distasteful. It is seen as brave, to take on the mantel of ship cannons. Often Andalites become bloodthirsty and hungry for destruction, or they fall into the quiet. Menderash’s clan has stayed sturdy and strong for generations, all while innovating and surprising. Many battles were won thanks to their ingenuity. They were the backbone of the Andalite military.

Menderash was a third-born. Their clan is one of the few that would be granted such a request. He was never a particularly great soldier, but it was rumored he was as brilliant an innovator as his great-grandfather, Calysen-Postill-Maestill, who invented the handheld shredder. I was nervous when I first met Menderash, but I was ultimately surprised by his personality. He reminded me of Marco, in some small ways. A brilliant and dangerous mind wrapped up in a playful personality that distracted you from the genius inside. However, where Marco was crass, calculating, and often rude, Menderash was always welcoming and kind. He used his influence and status copiously, but always invited his friends to enjoy his perks. Because he himself is so well known, he was not at all intimidated by me, Prince Aximili of Earth, and I found this comforting. When we first met, I was well out of my depth in the military. I was a Prince, but I had never formally completed my  _ aristh _ training. It was a difficult time for me. He aided me, and lent me his credibility and influence. We became very close. I promoted him to First Officer, even if he is not nearly the soldier that he is an inventor.

He was not without fault. He would often suddenly become sullen and petulant, going from open and friendly to withdrawn and taciturn simply because something did not go his way. He is impatient with those who are not as brilliant as him. He traumatized many of the  _ arisths _ on my ship with his brusque teaching methods. When I finally spoke to him about this behavior, he snapped at me, and told me I was Earth-softened. He refused to apologize for the comment. That was two nights before the events on the  _ Intrepid _ . It is much of why I was in a restless enough mood to lead the away team myself.

None of that meant he deserved this fate. I knew he enjoyed his human form possibly even more than me, but that is not enough reason to willing give up his tail blade and stalk eyes. What had happened? What would ever possess him to become a  _ nothlit _ ?

Now, he was crippled on top of it all. 

He slept for almost the entire first day we were in Z-space. I stayed by his side, feeling both wild and numb with my grief for  _ The Intrepid _ and for Menderash. In time, Menderash woke.

He forced himself upwards with difficulty. Humans were already so desperately unbalanced, and now Menderash has to suffer through his life missing an entire arm. He had already gone from six limbs to four. Now, he had three. My hearts beat with a guilty and sympathetic quickness, and I felt a fervent longing for my stolen memories. What had happened? Was there anything I could have done to save Menderash his fate? Had I made a mistake? I was sure I had made a mistake. Perhaps I understood Prince Jake’s isolation more than I thought. If I had been able to run the mental video of the attack on the  _ Intrepid _ again and again in my mind, I may also have wished to never leave my quarters.

I leaned over to help pull Menderash upwards. He recoiled from me. “Do not touch me,” he said.”You have already suffered more than enough indignity by coming to see me.” He spoke in Andalite, which is difficult enough to understand when coming from a human mouth. To make matters worse, his words were mangled and slurred, likely from the chemicals that Sergeant Vincent Santorelli had fed him. There was a significant delay in my response as my translator noisily attempted to decipher this new language, which was, of course, impossible. I temporarily shut it off. I could still understand him, but just barely. I shifted my body, so that my face was in front of him, and he was unable to avoid looking at me.

<Please, use thought-speak,> I said. He lowered his eyes in response.

“I do not deserve the elegance and and simplicity of our language,” said Menderash. “I am no longer an Andalite.”

I looked upon him for a moment, observing his new form. I was, of course, intimately familiar with his human morph. I was no stranger to the pleasures of the form, and Menderash invites many “to his bed”, as it were. Andalite intimacy was sacred, but human intercourse could be shared between friends, like a friendly tail fight or a round of driftball, and we had shared it many times. His form was attractive enough to arouse me as a human, but I had never given it much consideration outside our intimacy sessions. After spending three years on Earth, I had ceased to see humans as cheaply made Gedd and had found a certain sort of attractiveness in them, much like a horticulturist may find a student’s first awkward seedlings to be endearing. As I stared at Menderash, I found him to be something of an exception. In certain lights, his human form was attractive even to an Andalite. His eyes were large and gray, almost like a pair of main eyes. The lips surrounding his mouth were reasonably thin, making his mouth less disturbing than most. His hair was long and pleasantly arranged. Longer, now, that it had time to grow naturally. 

As I focused on his human form, I found myself changing. I, too, was becoming human. Not the child morph I had created from the Animorphs. That morph was too young to be taken seriously by other humans.  _ Estreens _ occasionally experimented with aging a strand of DNA back and forth, but for a morpher with average skill, it was a difficult process, somewhat akin to the human Animorphs years long effort to morph thicker artificial skin. I was not interested in pursuing the option for my old human morph. That form held too many painful memories, as well as the DNA of a fallen soldier. I had not been close to Rachel, and yes, I had been deeply disturbed by her toward the end; but I felt her loss all the same. After all, we had been something close to friends, in the beginning. She had taught me about artificial skin, and introduced Tobias and I to the excellent drama  _ Dawson’s Creek. _

I had acquired a few of Earth’s most powerful leaders during a summit as a showing of trust, and had a new human morph as a result. I chose to be male again, and aged myself somewhere within a human’s second decade, which is largely considered the most important decade of human growth according to their entertainment. My coloration was somewhat different than my old Earth form, and it was made up of new shapes. It is the morph with which Menderash is most familiar.

“Am I no longer an Andalite?” I asked out loud when the morph was finished.

Menderash made a human expression I would classify as a ‘sneer’, and then placed his remaining hand on the left side of his head. He pointed up a finger. He then pointed that finger at me with a slight curve, clearly mimicking a bit of stalk eye language that meant disapproval. “You will have these back in four solar light periods, Aximili,” he said. My name was thick and clumsy on his meaty human tongue. It was impossible for humans to say our names properly without thought-speak. It is why I never minded “Ax.” The shortening of a name was unheard of in Andalite culture, but Ax was somehow more comforting than the humans balky attempts at the elegant slides and lilts of my true name.

I gently eased his hand off of his head, switching to thought-speak. <It does not matter to me if you have stalk eyes. You are still you. You are still brilliant and kind.>

“I became a  _ nothlit, _ ” said Menderash, bitterly. “I had to become a  _ nothlit. _ It was a necessary sacrifice to find you. I would do it again, and again. But now?” He indicated his missing left arm. “I am deformed. I am no longer worthy.”

<Please,> I said dismissively. <You are drug addled and maudlin. I do not care from  _ nothlits _ or  _ vecols,  _ not after fighting side by side with them.> I maneuvered myself to sit next to him. I took his hand in mine. He attempted to pull away from me, but was too weak to be successful. I gently moved my thumb back and forth against his skin in a soothing motion. He relaxed. 

<A  _ vecol _ finds peace and dignity in isolation,> he said, finally switching to thought-speak. I was relieved to no longer strain to understand him, but  he was also losing consciousness again.

<Not you,> I said. <Your mind is too important to lose. I buy us time and allow you to heal. When you are strong, will work something out with the Electorate.>

Then, because he was in a place between wakefulness and sleep, and because he was affected by drugs, and because my hearts had gone quiet with the weight of it all, I asked, <Why did you do it all?>

Menderash smiled, close lipped and delirious. <Because you are my  _ shorm _ , Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, and because right before you disappeared, you managed one word to me and me alone _. > _

I froze.

<What did I say to you?> I asked.

<You said “Jake,”> said Menderash.

An Andalite has two hearts. This is not a concept I thought significant before my time on Earth. Humans idealize the “heart” as the center of emotion, which seemed quite foolish to me at first, as a heart is a muscle that pumps blood through the body. I used to kindly correct my comrades when they spoke of their heart having emotions. As time went on, I understood that it was a form of poetry, something any Andalite should respect. Now, I think of my two hearts in human terms, only I have adjusted the lore to fit myself. I have grown up on two planets — Andalite first, then Earth. I have become a creature of duality and contrast. It is possible for one of my hearts to feel one thing, and the other heart to feel the direct opposite emotion.

With my Andalite heart, I felt an overwhelming sense of happiness, warmth, and humility at Menderash’s sacrifice. I had managed to speak to him through our bond, and he had listened, and he had organized my rescue. Andalites are instinctively optimistic people, a source of both pride and trepidation for our species. Right now, I blossomed with light, and I did not want to darken my joy. I wanted my bright Andalite heart to glow with Menderash’s commitment to me. I wanted to share in it, to commit myself to him in return. Menderash was quite special to me, and to know that I was special to him by not just his deeds, but the fact I was able to communicate with him when we were so far apart, was such a beautiful and important piece of knowledge and I felt I might burst from it.

My human heart was cultivated in war. It was dark, and it was suspicious. Menderash was an impulsive person, driven by the moment rather than the future. He was clearly beginning to regret his sacrifices. My ability to communicate with him through duress may not have been entirely me. If The One could listen to private thought-speak, then clearly, he could project my speech through barriers of distance and Z-space. Why else would my last words to Menderash be “Jake?” In my right mind, I would never rely on Prince Jake for a rescue. The last I had seen of him, he had been forced to morph dolphin at the other human Animorphs’ naive behest. I had military training, and I knew the quiet did not go away so easily. In short, I had long ago given up on Prince Jake, as much as I was loathe to admit it. There was no reason I would have begged for Prince Jake. I do not believe it was I that spoke to Menderash in that moment, yet Menderash believed it was so, and had made choices based around that belief. 

I melted back into my true form. Out of curiosity, I touched Menderash’s cheek. I hadn’t even touched him as an Andalite, nevermind explored the intimacy of his face.

His human skin felt coarse and plain against my hand, like fabric, like an object. It was not quite the sensation that had been often whispered of among Andalite youth.

I withdrew my hand, dejected and dark, and I watched him sleep.

 

—

 

I eventually left the infirmary. There was little I could do by hovering over Menderash. I did not see anyone else as I explored the halls. While I felt a deep gratitude toward everyone that had searched so long to rescue me, I felt that isolation suited my mood more than reuniting with my friends. I was sure everyone else on the  _ Rachel _ shared my preference. I ultimately landed on the Bridge, watching the sensors. While I was there, I mused on what Tobias had told me about my time as The One.

He told me how deeply disturbing and frightening The One had been, and how The One had only allowed them escape by his own graces. It was an odd story to hear. At the center of it was me, allegedly aware enough to cry for death. I had absolutely no recollection of the events. At times, I would emerge from a battle with an injury to my head that hid many memories behind closed curtains, but I always had a few vague flashes of what I had done or where I had been. When my actions were recited to me from an outside source, I felt a vague tug of recognition. With this, I feel nothing. It is as if I had been teleported from the mysterious alien spacecraft onto the  _ Rachel _ . My life had simply been interrupted. In many ways, I was glad for it. Perhaps I do not wish to know what happened in that alien spacecraft. I do not bear the burden of watching my crew die. I do not have a mental recording to rewind and watch again and again, regretting every move, replaying every horror. Though I did know I was reckless in joining the away team. Perhaps if I hadn’t, perhaps if I had stayed on the bridge, perhaps —

It is difficult not to dwell.

There were three  _ arisths  _ on  _ The Intrepid _ , all female. I tried to use my influence wisely, and bringing more women into the military was something I was very proud to do. Their names were Meinathan, Uhael, and Dalia. They were the best and brightest in their  _ arisths’ _ class. It was my fault they had been on  _ The Intrepid _ at all, and my fault they were gone.

There was the sweet pilot Warlatan. He was talented, but nervous, and idolized me to the point that it affected his work. Menderash would often mock him for being quite unattractive, which was very inappropriate of him. I felt guilt over letting Menderash say such things, even if Warlatan was never in thought-speak range, and even more guilt that I had found many of Menderash’s jests amusing. Warlatan was nothing but sturdy and kind, and he was dead.

Pilots Tariall, Sathan, and Marasia had always resented my status as Prince, feeling that it was a smoke and mirrors move done by the military to save face in the light of poor decisions. I had worked hard to win them over and, at the time of the event, had made little headway in the matter. They were gone. They had died despising me.

I thought of Yandera-Shartan-Dalarrouth, the beautiful on board mechanic, who always seemed to be feeding when I fed. She would speak to me with an audacious familiarity, even if I was a Prince and she was a mere mechanic.

I missed them so terribly. I felt heavy with ghosts. My legs trembled with their weight. I see their faces no matter where my eyes rest. Yandera, Warlatan. Menderash.

Menderash.

I forced myself to find balance, to sooth my dark human heart with my Andalite one. I mourn next to my old comrades. Tobias, my  _ shorm,  _ for all he had not acted like one for three Earth years _. _ Jake, who was once my true Prince. Marco, who is also here. This provides peace. I also find myself wondering at my decision to join the away team on the alien spacecraft, and asking myself if the decision had truly been mine. Yes, I was frustrated with Menderash, and yes, I was much more interested in firsthand exploration than a typical Prince, but the coincidences piled on much too neatly. I had been the tool of the Ellimist, and now, perhaps, I had been the tool of The One.

I felt violated, used. I felt angry. I felt deep sadness and loss. I felt joy and warmth at the loyalty of the Animorphs.

It was an imperfect balance, but it was enough for now.

I studied the sensor commands. They were, admittedly, hard for me to tell. I am not entirely trained on many modern devices due to my quick promotion from  _ aristh _ to Prince. My Animorphs friends always thought so highly of my technical skills, but back on Andalite, it is well known I should not be left alone with computers. This ship — the  _ Rachel _ , a heartbreaking and fitting name — had been outfitted with modern Andalite systems. The controls were slightly above my outdated knowledge. Out of curiosity, I started to play with the sensors, just to ensure they were working as they should. Somehow, I almost took us out of Z-space and into a system with a dying star, a jump that would have depleted all our energy supplies and left us dead in space with no hope for return.

It was minutes after that mishap that Marco walked onto the bridge and said “Ax, catch.”

My hands flew off the sensors and I held them in air in a classic Earth motion, one that meant ‘My hands are up! I’m innocent! Please, do not shoot high velocity pellets into my chest from your primitive weapon!’

Whatever Marco had thrown hit my chest, and then fell on the floor.

Marco looked at me strangely. “Yeah, okay,” he said slowly. I noticed that Prince Jake was trailing behind him. His hair was wet, meaning he had recently cleansed. I got the singular impression, especially with what I had witnessed the last time I saw the two together, that Jake had only bathed and left his cabin at Marco’s harsh insistence. Jake’s expression was entirely blank. I wished Marco had left him alone, and let him stay in his cabin. I very much dislike seeing my first true Prince suffer from the quiet.

Marco distracted me by pointing to the thrown object. “M&Ms. I won’t lie to you, I brought some other things to give you in case we, you know, were successful, but after about five months of vitamin pills, freeze dried nutrition packs, and exactly zero leads, I did what I had to do. Sorry, man.”

I picked up the package of M&Ms and smiled at him. <I admire your restraint. I will save this, and savor it at a later time.>

“Savor? Later? My  _ God _ , have you changed,” said Marco, flopping into what must be a sort of Captain’s chair. It was much too large for a human. This ship had been designed by Yeerks for Hork-Bajir, Taxxons, and human needs, then refitted by Andalites for a mostly human crew. The end result was a ship filled with strange furniture and mismatched things, many with purposes at which I could only guess. “Jake brought some food for you, too, but that stuff went, like, week one.” He swiveled around and stood on the chair, peeking over the back to stare at Prince Jake. “Right,  _ Big _ Jake?”

Jake simply shrugged. Marco stared at him for a moment, then slid back into a proper sitting position, no longer facing Jake. His expression momentarily twisted into a human look of disgust, and then immediately melted into Marco’s normal relaxed charm. “How are you, Ax-man?”

<I am mourning the entire crew I was tasked to lead while reconciling my apparent possession by an omniscient beast, both events of which I have no memory.>

“Ah,” said Marco flatly. “That.”

The doors opened and Tobias flew in. He landed on what looked like a broom attached with human “duct tape” to the weapons sensor. A makeshift perch on a bridge specifically designed for a red-tailed hawk, looking strangely  _ not _ out of place among the other various Yeerk amenities. What an odd ship.

I acknowledged Tobias with my right stalk eye, just before remembering he would not understand the meaning of the gesture. 

It is passing strange to be among humans again. I have been a human-influenced Andalite for so long that I am forgetting how to be an Andalite among humans. The irony is not lost on me. Among Andalites, I am often considered to be vague and inscrutable. Due to thought-speak being our first and only language, the concept of an accent is hard for most Andalites to comprehend, yet I suppose I have one. I forget to send or read certain emotional impressions sent through thought-speak, because the Animorphs had never quite picked up on receiving or sending those nuances. I shrug my shoulders, nod and shake my head, and hold my arms and hands in certain gestures unknown to my Andalite crew. My sense of humor is not understood at all by either Andalites or humans, as it’s an oddly shaped Frankenstein of both cultures. At least, that is what I tell myself. Perhaps I am simply not very funny. (That was, of course, a joke.)

Among humans, I was simply an alien. Much of what I do was written off as otherworldly without any attempt to understand, though I would always try to use their body language and navigate their quirks anyway. Undersecretary Cassandra Gardner was the only one to truly appreciate my efforts. She was not on the  _ Rachel, _ a decision I respected. Undersecretary Gardner is often the only human the Andalites will listen to, and while I would never say this in public, sometimes The Electorate needed to listen to a human.

I always knew Tobias would listen if I chose to explain the many aspects of stalk eye or tail blade communication. He would be genuinely interested, and ask me challenging questions. This, and so many other reasons, is why he is my  _ shorm. _ It is also why I have been so angry with his complete lack of contact for the last three Andalite seasons. We spent so long dreaming of a simple life away from the confusing bustle of human cities that I had naturally assumed he would return to Andalite with me one day. Instead, he flew off into the wilds, and I hadn’t even gotten the chance to offer.

I let my right stalk eye return to a figure-eight pattern. <Hello,> I said to him.

<Hey, Ax-man,> said Tobias. His thought-speak was layered with dull, repressed emotions that I couldn’t quite make out. He knew that speaking with a plain tone while allowing another to read your emotions was the only dignified way to use thought-speak, but he often had difficulty either knowing to project or turning off his projection. I got the feeling that he did not wish to project right now, but was struggling to keep his emotions down.

Marco craned his neck to look at him. He rolled his eyes and looked away. “How long until we rendezvous with the Andalites?” he asked me.

<Around three of your hours,> I said.

Marco pointed at me and grinned. “No. No. Not today. This is an Earth ship, and the only hours we’ve used for the last six months are the only hours that matter.” 

I smiled at him. <Ah, but the Andalites set up a standard unit of time to use in space travel decades ago,> I said. It was, of course, our standard Andalite time measurements, which are the only sensical measurements in the galaxy. <Your use of human time is an aberration.>

Marco made to respond, but was interrupted by Tobias. <I didn’t miss this joke,> he said. <Earth isn’t the only planet, alright? Let it go.>

“Jesus,” said Marco under his breath. The air grew awkward. Prince Jake went to the navigation sensor and sat down. He started working with the controls, which made me nervous. I admire Prince Jake, but if  _ I _ had nearly damaged the ship by attempting to use the navigation sensor, then Prince Jake definitely would put us in some sort of danger. To my surprise, he pulled up an Earth “video game.” I was both impressed and shocked that the Animorphs were using Andalite tech to play racing games. <Did Menderash install that for you?> I asked.

Jake glanced over at me while Marco swung his legs to the side of the chair, dangling them across the edge. “Nyah,” said Marco. “The Yeerks had A/V ports installed for whatever fucked-up Yeerk reason. I just figured out how to switch display modes. Figuring out the sensor screens was my personal project for the first couple of weeks, specifically so I wouldn’t be bored to tears when I was stuck up here manning navigation.” Marco looked at Tobias. “You got anything fun to say about that?” asked Marco harshly.

<No,> said Tobias immediately.

Another silence fell in the room, uncomfortable and ugly. I shifted nervously. I have spent time with Marco, Cassie, and Prince Jake on the very rare occasion, but it was always in a very public setting. This is the first time so many of us have been gathered privately in a room, with a chance to speak frankly and openly. The six months in this dark and cramped Yeerk ship had done the Animorphs no favors. While we were never going to be as close as we once were — if you even considered partnerships formed with war to be a form of friendship at all — this reunion felt wrong.

The doors to the bridge were clear, and I could see Jeanne Gerard approaching the bridge with my stalk eyes. She took one look at us, then turned away. Perhaps she thought this wasn’t a moment to interrupt. If I knew her better, I would have called her back in. I would have loved a distraction from the awkward air between us.

I watched as Jake failed to complete a race. He set his controller down and leaned back into his chair. “And then how long until we’re back on Earth?”

<Ah,> I said. <I have not fully accessed the damages to the  _ Rachel, _ and I do not know how long a full repair could take. However, there is a shuttle dedicated to bringing visitors to Earth and back. I believe it ought to be leaving in the summer of tomorrow’s day which, in Earth parlance, is roughly three days, five hours, seven minutes and thirty seconds from now. This is merely an estimate, as I am still orientating myself after my time… away. Forgive me for any errors.>

“Three days,” Prince Jake repeated, staring at the screen in front of him. An eight Earth-second animation loop played over and over. He watched it, transfixed, as if it held some sort of answer.

As I watched him, I noticed my vision fog, just slightly, as if a black haze was descending upon all four of my eyes. I stalled my stalk eye moving patterns in an effort to shock it away. It worked. I had never experienced such a phenomenon before. I would be sure to tell a medical examiner about the situation. Perhaps she would know.

“Well,” said Marco, suddenly swinging his legs forward and bouncing out of his chair. I had not missed Marco’s inability to be calm. It made me feel dizzy now just as much as it did back then. He made a sweeping gesture toward the ship. “I know The One said he was going to play hard to get and make us chase him around all the galaxies, and I hope someone takes up that invitation and you both have a really nice, terrifying time. Me? You know, I spent so much of my teen years with the Death Wish that I started thinking about the good times. All the adrenaline, the swooping in and out of the air as a bird, the rush after one of the maybe four battles we really won. I went a little Belle there for a second. You know, Beauty and the Beast? Hot chick ends up horny for the literal monster that captures her? The Death Wish had me in Stockholm Syndrome, straight up. Now, I’m done. Over it.” He slid his hands together up in the air over and over, a human gesture I knew to mean ‘wash my hands of this.’ Humans considering washing of their hands to be a miracle ward against all disease. “This spaceship adventure was my last con. I’m too old for this shit, I’m retiring, I’m done.” He held out his hands. “Screw you guys,” he said, then he pointed to the left, “I’m going home.”

My vision fogged again. This time, it did not clear.

<Okay, we get it,> said Tobias. 

“I can’t believe I did any of this in the first place!” Marco continued, misinterpreting Tobias’s frustration as an opening to continue one of his “amusing” rants. “Do you know what my life was  _ like? _ Can you even comprehend it? Britney Spears came on to  _ me! _ Me! Not the other way around! Okay, she was shitfaced, but she grabbed my shoulders, looked me in the eye, and slurred ‘You are so brave’ and made  _ very _ specific eye contact —”

<Shut up!> said Tobias. I felt myself begin to buckle. I recovered with flourish. No one had noticed. Tobias and Marco were staring at each other, and Prince Jake was staring at his video game.

“Jeeze, Tobias, chill out. What’s wrong? Is it that time of the month? Are you laying some eggs?”

<For the past six months, I have been listening to you complain and complain about what you ‘gave up,’ as if the moment you walk back on Earth you won’t immediately start sucking up to Hollywood and go right back to getting drunk and sleeping with models. So go! Get to it! The rest of us are decent people and will work toward  _ destroying the omniscient evil that’s torturing the galaxy, _ > he said. His anger and resentment radiated from his thought-speak without filter.

Marco opened his mouth, as if he were to volley words back to Tobias, but Prince Jake spoke first. “I’m not going, either,” he said.

My vision filled with smoke and I smelled decay, sick and sweet, and when I came back Tobias was morphed to hork-bajir, Jeanne and Santorelli were on the bridge, and Marco was staring at Prince Jake with an open mouth.

 


	2. Marco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see end notes for content warnings.

“I’m not going, either,” said Jake, and then there was a hissing like a chorus of furious snakes.

All of us looked to Ax, all of us pitched in tune and knowing, _knowing._ He was flickering again, but this time the speed was less “Michael Flatley’s Legs” and more “Madonna In Her Later Years.” It was a slow kind of change, a methodical shuffling rather than something uncontrolled and manic. I took it as a good sign, but sort of in the way that a crazed psychopath coming at you with a mere handgun was better than a crazed psychopath who was armed with a bazooka. It also didn’t grow the mouth again, which was a relief. I don’t think I could ever look at that thing again. When I’m back on Earth, I’m committing myself to a smear campaign against red lipstick. I’ll bury it with mom jeans and comb overs.

There was a sharp _thud_ , and then a clattering of plastic. The Playstation controller had slipped from Jake’s hand and he was staring at it like some depressed ingenue in a European movie about adultery.

I slipped into the coldness of my mind, where strategy and logic make everything clear and simple. Don’t get me wrong, I was scared shitless, but I was going to assess the situation before I started to full on panic. Maybe I flip out when I think birds are staring at me too intently, but this? Actual, real, tangible danger? This I could do. I knew how to stay scared, but not start to worry until it was necessary. The One made it clear we were on it’s fishing hook, so after the initial shock of The One’s mega B.O. wafting through the air, it was easy to accept, because _of course._ Of course we can’t have it easy. Of course The One left a little calling card in Ax. I should have seen this a mile away.

I started morphing gorilla, because giving myself defenses was an obvious step one. I saw blades start to spurt out of Tobias’s feathers.

<If you do not chase, then how I will I learn how to be a hero?> The One said. As much as I didn’t want to see the mouth return, its thought-speak was way worse than hearing it talk out loud. Its multiple voices tore at my mind, bouncing off my skull and gouging at the bone.

Jake’s breath quickened. He wasn’t morphing. He hadn’t even moved. He just sat there, staring at the floor, shocked and entirely unhelpful. Great.

I sauntered forward, fully gorilla, and put myself between The One and Jake. <There are plenty of movies and books about our story,> I said. <Sold at every bookstore on Earth. You should check those out, especially since I get royalties from most of them.>

<I did not ask you,> said The One, looking past me and focusing on Jake with all four eyes. <I am speaking to the Yeerk-Killer.>

I waved a hand in front of The One’s face. <Well, then here’s lesson one: I’m the one who talks. I give the answers, I tell the jokes, I impress with my wit. You wanna chat? You chat with me.> I jerked one giant black thumb toward Jake. <Him? Figurehead. I just let everyone buy the story that he was our leader. What can I say, I don’t really like attention.>

The One wasn’t buying it. He took a few steps closer to Jake, his hooves tapping across the ground in a hauntingly Ax fashion, a quick _click-click_ of an Andalite’s hooves connecting with hard floors they were never designed for. It made my heart clench, and that made me mad.

<Hey,> I said. I lumbered over to him. <I said talk to me.>

The One held out a hand and I went flying into the weapons sensor command. Pain blossomed through my body, but it was the gorilla’s pain, dull and familiar and easier to shake off than my own. Still pain, though. Still not great. It knocked the wind out of me.

It also managed to turn on all the warning lights again, which was annoying, and was sure to send Santo and Jeanne to the bridge. It also made Tobias freeze in that way he did sometimes.

<Earth to fucking Tobias!> I snapped at him. Then, <Well, space to Tobias,> I added.

Nothing.

This had been happening on and off over the last six months, and Tobias would always act like nothing was wrong afterward, no matter how hard you pressed him on it. I mostly didn’t care, seeing how it sure as hell wasn’t my job to sort through Tobias’s bullshit, but right now, I was _really_ wishing someone had made him face all his bird demons. I kind of needed the backup.

The One continued his way toward Jake. All four eyes were still trained on him, which could be a very good thing. Maybe that meant it had other ways of seeing, but maybe it meant it was so sure we wouldn’t hurt Ax that he didn’t need to be vigilant. I hoped it was the latter. Omniscient space god was terrifying and undefeatable. Stupid omniscient space god was different. I could deal with stupid.

Jake finally stood up and looked at The One. Jake’s eyes were dull, dead. They flickered from The One’s stalk eyes and down to his main eyes, over and over.

They stared at each other for far too long. Just before I could butt in with another delaying tactic, Jake said, “Leave me alone.” It wasn’t a command. It was a whine.

<I cannot,> said The One, almost pleasantly, if you could say hearing multiple voices in your head going off all at once and ringing off your skull like a snare drum “pleasant.” <Unless you promise to teach me, Yeerk-Killer. Please. I must learn how heroes fight.>

Jake closed his eyes.

Now, listen, Jake always looks old. He _feels_ old. It can be draining to even be next to him if he’s in one of his downward spirals, which is almost constantly. He gets this air about him, a sort of pressure, like the weight of the world that he had hoisted on his shoulders had a full on gravitational pull. But just then, when he shut his eyes, he went beyond exhausted and old. He became ancient and mythological. He was Jesus on the cross, he was Sisyphus with the boulder, he was Alfred dealing with Bruce Wayne’s bullshit. He was empty. He was tired.

He was pushed against a wall and he had no intention of fighting.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll fight you. I’ll give you chase, I’ll play tag, whatever. Just — fine. _Fine._ Only me though. No one else.”

<Seriously?> I said, frustrated and angry and shocked at my complete and utter _lack_ of shock.

Jake looked at me then, as if he were doing me this huge favor, as if watching my childhood best friend roll over and expose his belly at the first sign of danger was a gracious thing for me to appreciate. He shot me this broken little smile, a sad little martyr smirk, and all it did was piss me off. I started demorphing. There was no point.

The One flickered, projecting the rat-trap android. <I wish to learn,> it said.

“Then I’ll teach you,” said Jake.

The smoke and the smell left as suddenly as it came, leaving behind a swaying Ax. His stalk eyes starting spinning wildly. <What —> he started. The door opened and Jeanne ran in, closely followed by Santo. Jeanne ran for the sensors, typing in whatever input chain would shut up the fucking alarms. The room went silent all at once, revealing a shocked and confused Andalite, two very worried morphers-in-training, one frozen bird, one Jake, and me.

I was never particularly good at biting down on my anger as a teen. Who could blame me? I was saving the fucking world. Once I became an A lister, I had to learn how to slow down and count to ten. When you’re that famous, people are just _looking_ for a good story. _US Weekly_ will pay people a lot of money for an anonymous tip or two about my juicy set behavior. I had to swallow down my words, even when I was so pissed off that I couldn’t see straight.

If it weren’t for that training, I’d be screaming at Jake right now. Not just yelling, _screaming._ Top of my lungs, sore throat tomorrow screaming.

I pushed past everyone, exiting the room as fast as I could. I heard someone following me and spun around to face them. It was Santo, looking as sweet and concerned as ever, and I spat the word “Don’t,” at him as if he were a family dog. He didn’t follow me.

 

—

 

We had a few hours to pull ourselves together before the big rendezvous with the Andalites, and that really wasn’t enough time for fucking anything. I could feel myself coming unhinged, my whole body closing in on me in a way I hadn’t really felt since I left Earth. It wasn’t just that the presence of The One still inside Ax — it was everything. The trip, the trip ending, the uncertainty of what would happen back on Earth, and the _absolute_ certainty that I would never see Jake again. It was all falling down on me, all at once, sick and evil. I was getting hit with emotional acid rain and I had _no_ fucking interest in dealing with any of it, but it’s not like my shitty, broke ass brain ever gave me a choice! As soon as the door to my escort suite was sealed, I hit the wall with both forearms and screamed. Then, all in one motion, I spun around and knocked the back of my head against the wall. I slid down like some lovestruck chick in a shitty 80s teen movie, too full of bullshit feelings to stand. I hugged my legs to my chest and buried my face in my knees and tried, _tried_ , to focus on breathing, but it was so fucking hard when I was vibrating out of my own fucking skin.

Thankfully, I had a little friend by my side, and his name was Don Julio.

I pushed myself upwards with weak and shaking muscles, tears streaming from my eyes without my permission. I jerked toward the cabinet where I kept all my best booze and pulled out the last bottle I had in there and drank, small sips at first, then deeper. It didn’t help, not at first, not while the alcohol was simply attacking my too empty stomach and burning me from the inside, setting up the foundations for the later buzz. I went to my mini fridge and pulled out my third to last can of Coke. I opened it and drank, chasing the tequila, then flopped down on my couch without closing the refrigerator door.

I drank from the liquor bottle again. I don’t typically allow myself so many empty calories outside a human morph, but desperate times calls for desperate measures.

I sat up, then leaned back against my couch, slouching. I alternated between tequila pulls and chugging Coke. In time, I felt like I was glowing from the inside, and that meant my goal had been reached. Just for good measure, I drank the good stuff again. You can never go wrong with too much Don Julio. At least, I can’t. I’ve had hangovers, but only for about five minutes as I slowly push my way through a morph while lying in bed. Thanks, Elfangor. I really owed that guy.

It was a miracle I had any booze left at all. We had no way of knowing how long we’d be on this godforsaken ship and Earth pit stops weren’t on the menu, so I’d smuggled in as much liquor as I reasonably could. I thought it’d last a good while, but then I broke down Vince Santorelli’s shell, and that man can _drink_. I mean, it’s definitely due to size more than anything else. I feel like, proportionally, I’ve got him beat by a landslide, but I had to earn that. Santo? He was built like a tractor that was designed to pull around other tractors. He made Jake look like, well, me, and then he made me look like Shirley Temple. It was nice to look at, hard to intoxicate. When we were back on Earth and finally free of this hell ship, he wouldn’t just owe me a drink, he’d owe me an entire trough.

I look around at the little kingdom I’d created for our indefinite journey; my home sweet space home. Caysath and Menderash had helped us smuggle in a few U-Hauls worth of comforts, and the escort cabin I’d claimed as my quarters was outfitted to the nines. I’d brought a sweet entertainment center, a ton of bookshelves full of games and movies, and a sectional couch that was upholstered with bright red suede. The bedroom area had a king-sized bed, an armoire full of clothes only Menderash appreciated, and a hell of a lot of porn. I had the best damn situation in the whole ship, which was a waste, because Santo was the only one who ever hung out in here.

I looked up at the air vent that lead into my lounge area. According to Menderash, this ship was designed to escort high level personnel from one end of the galaxy to another. That meant we were quick and well armed, especially for our size, and that we also had pretty decent internal security. If some kind of Alien Blackbeard came looking for us and managed to get past our cannons and board us, then there were multiple security measures in place, including a couple of self-destruct measures that impacted the airlock but left the rest of the ship alone. If someone managed to get past _that_ , then the crew was fucked, but all the Vissers were safe as houses in their beautiful cabins. The doors were some kind of indestructible alien metal and when they closed, they _closed_ . Nothing can get through, and I mean _nothing_. Worried about dracons, shredders, or any other terrifyingly powerful weapons? Unless Alien Blackbeard is on a suicide mission, you’re safe, because energy shields are fabulous things. They even had the oxygen and water pipe situation worked out, a bit of engineering that was probably put in place thanks to the antics of my adorable fourteen-year-old self. The door to my bathroom could seal completely, just like the door to the outside hallway, and the bathroom was the only room with plumbing. The airflow through the ship could block itself off and switch to a small in-room oxygen tank. Pretty much safe as houses, even from an alien as small as a Helmacron.

Not so safe from an Animorph.

The Yeerks had adopted many things from Earth. Namely, our comforts. I’m pretty sure most Andalites were happy with some dirt and a poem to ponder, but the Yeerks had a taste for human entertainment, and had installed a ton of electrical outlets as a result. I mean, why give the coffee machine or television some kind of alien makeover when they work just fine? _The Rachel_ was both military tank _and_ cruise ship, and plugging in a microwave was one small way to make the trip a luxury one.

Now, sure, electrical outlets were maybe a problem for a Helmacron, but _not_ an issue for my best friend, the _Blatella germanica_.

I felt myself focusing in on the outlet my minifridge was plugged into, like a zoom out on a dolly push-in. Everything else in the room blurred and softened, and only the outlet showed as sharp in my vision. I tightened my grip around the Coke can, feeling my lungs begin to constrict again.

I don’t know if The One could morph while possessing Ax. It’d thrown a massive fit about needing another Andalite host body, and it hadn’t minded being a _nothlit_ Andalite copy, so maybe morphing wasn’t even on the table for The One. Maybe it needed to be an Andalite full time. That seemed likely, but I wasn’t about to rest on it. If The One _could_ possess Ax, and it _could_ morph, and Ax had a roach morph, The One could find me at any time. Of course, I had absolutely no idea what The One could and could not do, but was I really going to risk it based on odds? I knew from experience that if something could happen, it _would_ happen.

I drank more tequila and stood up on shaking legs. I went to a drawer in my armoire and pulled out the duct tape we’d used to make a few places for Tobias to perch throughout the ship. Jeanne had brought it, because she’s some kind of Girl-Scout-slash-Femme-Fatale-slash-Probably-A-Robot, and she had actually packed _duct tape_. I pulled out a huge chunk.

See, I’d tested it all out, back when I _really_ didn’t trust Santo or Jeanne. I could morph roach, mosey around blindly in the electrical circuitry for a while, and end up in the cafeteria. I looked up the circuitry for the ship and it’s pretty easy to get from point A to point B if you had a goal in mind and memorized the pathways. I broke into Jake’s cabin, once. He was sleeping and he never found out, even if I had to morph and demorph to make sure I didn’t get stuck. I got to see a little bit of the sad way he lives. He kept his visiting area clean, but Jake’s actual bedroom smelled like cigarettes and farts.

I gulped down more liquor. At least I never took up smoking. I drank away my childhood trauma, like a _normal_ person.

Very carefully, I went around the room and unplugged everything I had. Sorry, TV. Sorry, Gamecube. Sorry, lava lamp. I sealed off every electrical outlet in my suite, meticulously blocking off each piece of plastic with three long strands of duct tape, all set in perfect horizontal rows. I got everything set up, and then I went back around, double checking everything and smoothing over creases.

When I was done, my cabin looked like it was under construction. Everything had been moved to the middle of the room in order to give me access to all the outlets. Stupid. So fucking stupid.

I started laughing, wild and alone in my upturned suite. I found the Don Julio bottle and drank, then laughed again. I looked around. I was standing in a tornado of insanity, but was it insane? My alien friend was possessed by Gozer and he could potentially, possibly, _maybe_ morph. I’ve gotten where I am today by refusing to be sorry instead of safe.

I went to the bedroom area and slid under my bed. There was a box there, ridiculously ornate, and I opened it to reveal a shitton of sentimental tokens. A photo of me and my mom from when I was a toddler, years before Edriss; a letter that Rachel gave me on Valentines during the eighth grade that contained the sort of heinous insults only a thirteen-year-old girl could come up with; a little Army man Collette had given me as a joke. I dumped it all out on the bed and flipped the box over, sliding back a decorative panel and revealing a latch for the false bottom. Nothing was more uncomfortable than someone else’s weepy shit, and I knew all that nonsense would distract anyone from thinking about at the contents of this box for more than a second.

I removed the decoy part of the box and took out the real reason I’d commissioned it at all. I held it in my hand. It was small, square, and black. For all the world, it looked like a beeper, something that was already horrifically old fashioned even after just three short years. However, back then, everyone had one of these. You’d never think twice about someone with a black square hanging from their belt.

Unless you were Jake, Ax, Tobias, or myself. We knew the slight differences, could see the way the were a bit too heavy and pulled belts down a little too deeply, noticed the top was made of black glass rather than black plastic. This wasn’t a beeper. It was a Dracon beam in disguise.

Listen, the war’s end was messy, and loose ends dangled every which way. You want an alien gun that could destroy an entire building? Hundreds of ex-hosts needed cash for their divorce lawyers, or therapists, or brand-new drug addictions! Any of them would _love_ to have a few extra thousand on hand, and most of them had no use for all the tech the Yeerks had left in their homes. Really, all I had to do was stand in the middle of Santa Barbara for about ten minutes, pick my nose, and then I suddenly had three of these guys. Yeah, morphing was great, but it took forever and tanking a Dracon blast with your own body fucking sucks. These days, I wanted some added protection on hand.

I fell face down onto my bed. I felt heavy enough to maybe, possibly, _please god let me_ sleep for the first time since we’d rescued Ax. When we met with the Andalites, they could page me over the ship’s intercom.

I kept my hand curled around the dracon beam, and I didn’t really fall asleep.

 

—

 

I arrived on the bridge _just_ as we connected with the Andalite dome ship _Blossom._ I’d exhausted my Joey Lawrence jokes earlier and no one else was secure enough in their masculinity to get my Powerpuff Girls ones, so I just quietly joined my silent and solemn comrades as an Andalite elevator thing sucked us up, up, and away. After my semi-nap and a few more ladylike sips of tequila, I was feeling alright. Loose. Correctly, appropriately loose. You can’t be a worldwide celebrity in my situation and _not_ learn how to present yourself after drinking. I had to go from flipping out in my dressing room to smiling on set in under five minutes. It was an art form, really. Too tipsy and you’re Dean Martin weaving at his own Roasts, but _slightly inebriated_ and you’re Don Rickles holding the holding the whole thing down (two glasses of red wine, and you’re my mom sitting down her six-year-old son to watch weird old people he’d never heard of insult each other.) It’s all a spectrum.

We emerged from the elevator and stepped into the dome ship. Suddenly, we were surrounded by goddamn _lighting._ Normally, Andalite decor’s whole “Hello Kitty Coloring Book Meets Seventies Bedspread But It’s All Blue” thing gave me a headache, but after six months in a Yeerk coffin, I was ready to move into the _Blossom_ and spend the rest of my life enjoying weirdly egg-shaped furniture.

We pushed Menderash around in a wheelchair we’d found in the _The Rachel’s_ infirmary, but he was way too out of it to really comprehend what was going on. I don’t know who made that decision, Menderash or Santo, but I was jealous either way. I was also mortally offended that Santo never explained exactly _how_ much morphine was in the infirmary, or brought up the oxy, or benzos, or any of the fun things he had going on in there. What do a bunch of morph-capable people need with painkillers? They need chilled out nights watching Monty Python and quieting their inner demons with pharmaceuticals, that’s what they need. Oh, I _might_ forgive him, but it’d take some time.

The first thing we did was take some kind of purple mist chemical shower, in order to get rid of space lice or whatever. Ax explained it all, but I was way too unfocused to care. Unfortunately, the Andalites didn’t need us to take off our clothes. A shame. I was really looking forward to finally unveiling Jeanne Gerard. Would you believe that we’d spent six months together and she _still_ wouldn’t sleep with me? Maybe she’d managed to see past all my charm and truly take in the writhing hell creature inside, but that probably wasn’t it. I bet she was engaged. To duct tape.

I laughed a little at my own silent joke. <What’s so funny?> asked Tobias.

“Your face,” I said.

<Great,> he said. <This.>

Santo came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. I don’t normally dig contact that I can’t see coming, but I knew it was Santo, and I liked him.

“You alright?” he asked me.

I thought about apologizing for my tone earlier, but I didn’t. He’d get it, or he wouldn’t. It’s not my fault he ran after me. I just leaned against him a little, just for a second, and said “I’m fantastic.”

He squeezed my shoulder a little. “Alright, man,” he said. “Take it easy, okay?”

Santo gets it.

When the Andalites had deemed us cleansed, we were ushered into what I assumed was the Captain’s ready room. There were no chairs, obviously; Andalites had no use for sitting. But there was a huge screen at the front, and all manner of plants. The seven of us stood at attention— well, except for Tobias, who perched on Ax’s tail, and Menderash, who just sort of drooled or whatever. Ax stood front and center. That was usually my spot, but on Andalite, Ax was definitely the better spokesman. Cassie knew some shit about talking to fancy military Andalites, but I as I never envisioned myself in this particular situation, I only knew basic shit like “don’t make direct eye contact” and “turn off the jokes, Marco, it just confuses them.” I tried hard to center myself and remember what else I had learned from meeting the occasional leader with Cassie, but it was hard. All I wanted to do was slip into a dopey smile and talk about my secret and unironic love for Cher’s music. Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves? _Classic._ My mom’s favorite song. They just don’t make ‘em like they used to.

A bunch of Andalites burst into the room, all of them bigger and older than Ax. I squared my shoulders, ready to do the talking, but Ax walked out ahead of me. His tail was held high, like it always was when he did press for Earth. It was some kind of Andalite status thing. Two of the old Andalites pitched their own tails even _higher._ Was I witnessing some kind of Andalite dick waving contest? Could I play? I laughed, and Jake gave me a look.

The biggest and oldest Andalite took a step toward Ax and lowered his tail blade, which felt like some sort of bow. <The _derath_ seed that was once thought gone has sprung in winter, > he said.

Ax nodded solemnly, which made one of the other old Andalites shift a bit. <Let us reflect on unsprung _derath,_ > said Ax.

The Andalite next to him mimicked the nod in a small, subtle way, which made the first guy give a little Andalite smile. While everything Andalites do looks both majestic _and_ cute as a button, I had a gut feeling that smile was some kind of sinister smirk. After all, it takes one to know one, and I’d done more than my fair share of subtly making fun of a presenter or two at while sitting backstage. Ax either ignored them or didn’t notice.

The main guy moved a stalk eye toward us. <It is an honor to meet you, Animorphs. I am Elrenyl-Taradrath-Balentul, War-Prince of the _Blossom._ Thank you for returning Prince Aximili to us. We owe you a great debt. >

“I want a pony,” I said, the words slipping out of my mouth without thought.

Tobias sent me a harsh <Marco>, but Santo chuckled. Good ol’ Santo. He really respected a joke. I liked Santo. I was going to miss Santo. He had pitch perfect impressions of, like, _every_ Simpsons character. It was outstanding. I’d need to get him an audition with Lorne when we get back. You know, Lorne Michaels? I’m very famous.

Too bad Jake won’t get to see Santo’s first season on Saturday Night Live. Martyrs just don’t have time for such frippery, what with voluntarily walking into their own deaths without putting up even the tiniest fight.

<Marco Ruiz-Champlin, as you know, is someone other humans consider ‘funny’,> said Ax smoothly, as if he were translating for me. I blinked in surprise. <As a result, he often says things in jest, in an attempt to make the other humans laugh. When they do not he grows surly, and doubts his place in society.>

“Oh, wow,” I said. “These guys actually think you’re some kind of expert on human things?”

<I am,> said Ax, sounding offended, maybe slightly hurt. I just laughed. The Andalites all looked at me with their main eyes, then turned back to Ax.

Ax gave them a quick rundown of the events leading up to our arrival. When he got to the parts he couldn’t remember, he looked toward me, as if to pass me the story ball. I felt Jake’s hand on my shoulder, and watched as he stepped forward and started to spin the rest of the tale. Well, good for him. At least he’s taking some kind of initiative for _something_ . He very carefully left out the names of the Andalites who helped him commandeer _The Rachel,_ which caused Elrenyl to interrupt him.

<Is that... _thing_ not Menderash-Postill-Fastill in human form? > he asked, indicating Menderash in his wheelchair.

<No,> said Ax quickly. Then, we all heard, <It is difficult for one Andalite to lie to another. You must not let them know of Menderash’s fate, not yet. Please, help me.>

That was definitely my cue. I stepped forward and swept an arm toward Menderash. “This guy almost died protecting us! Look at him! He needs treatment, _stat!_ ”

Jake sighed audibly. Maybe I was being a little over dramatic.

<He looks _very_ much like Menderash in human form, > said one of the other Andalites.

“Yeah, and you look like Ax,” I shot back, “Who looks like Alloran, who looks like Mertil, who looks like everyone else. Turns out, aliens aren’t the best at sorting out the features in another aliens. Ever try to pick one Hork-Bajir out of a line-up?”

The Andalites all stiffened at my mentions of Alloran and Mertil. <Marco, shut up,> said Tobias, sounding tired. Jeanne glared at me. Jake pinched the bridge of his nose.

I didn’t react. Maybe the words had fallen out of my mouth without thought, but I wasn’t about to take them back. The Andalites were such dicks about those guys. Even Cassie can’t get them to allow Mertil back on the planet, and forget about Alloran! Which I have, because he wouldn’t do a Pepsi commercial with me, even if it would have made us millions. Oh, sure, I already had millions, but if I had _more_ millions, I could _really_ dig into the whole rich, eccentric celebrity thing. I could develop a ton of condos based off of Lego houses built by two-year-olds and plop ‘em right into WeHo. I could buy every copy of a dumb movie everyone remembers but no one likes, like _Fern Gully_ , burn them all, and watch as the world went mad trying to remember if _Fern Gully_ actually ever happened. I could buy every Super Bowl commercial spot and use that time to play Spice Up Your Life. Who knows, maybe I could finally buy something that would fill the raw, gaping hole inside my heart! Maybe I would finally feel again! _Jesus,_ Don Julio, you’re really getting into it tonight, aren’t you.

Also, the Pepsi commercials would have gone a long way to normalize Andalites to middle America, which is something that needs to happen if our nation continues to lead galactic negotiations. I’m shallow, but in a complex way.

Eventually, Jake sighed and squeezed his eyes shut. “He is a student of mine,” he said. “We haven’t seen Menderash-Postill-Fastill in ages.”

Elrenyl stared at me with his main eyes. <Jacob Berenson,> he said, slowly and diplomatically, <As we were very concerned about Prince Aximili’s return, we asked for all news coverage of the situation to be imported from Earth. We are aware that Vincent Santorelli and Jeanne Gerard were your students,> he said. <We heard nothing of a third student disappearing with the other Animorphs. I am not quite convinced. Rest assured, I will not punish you for associating with a voluntary _nothlit_ and a _vecol_. You are not an Andalite, and are not held to Andalite standards. > One stalk eye pointed at Ax.

Jake let his hand drop. “No, really, it’s a different guy. His name is —” he started, then paused for a little bit too long, clearly running through a list of his student names in his head and trying to come up with someone untraceable.

Before I could help out the poor boy, Tobias suddenly spoke up. <His name is Todd Johnson,> he said, which was, quite possibly, the most boring name I have ever heard.

I couldn’t help it, I laughed again. Elrenyl’s tail went even higher. <Get it together, Marco!> snapped Tobias, in what was probably private thought speak. I made a face at him.

<I understand that sound as a human acknowledgment of amusement,> said Elrenyl. <What does this loud human find so amusing?>

I shook my head, ignoring Elrenyl. Santo stepped forward and put a hand on Menderash’s shoulder. Menderash reacted to the touch, and looked up at him dreamily. God, I wish I was Menderash right now. I’d love to be just completely blotto. “Marco thinks our relationship is funny,” said Santo. He glanced at me, looking almost concerned, and then he looked back at Elrenyl. He swallowed and looked nervous. “Are you aware of the concept of ‘homophobia?’” he asked, speaking very slowly.

<I am not,> said Elrenyl, directing his gazes toward Santo.

Santo nodded, then looked down at the floor. “A lot of humans think it’s really shameful to fall in love with someone of your same gender, but it’s what I prefer. I wouldn’t leave Earth without … Todd, and Todd wouldn’t let me go without him. We kept his involvement in the mission a secret, because if the news got out that I was in love with a male, I would be discharged from the military. He’s very, very hurt.” He seemed convincingly worried, sad, and lovestruck, which wasn’t a surprise. Santo was an amazing impressionist and theatrical singer, and he knew a thing or two about acting. Oh, and he absolutely was a flaming homosexual who thought no one could tell because of all his muscles, even if that’s maybe the gayest thing about him. That probably helped his performance a little.

<War-Prince, I would swear my life that that is Menderash-Postill-Fastill in human morph,> said one of the assholes who had been making fun of Ax. <It is quite the famous morph. Half of the military has spent significant periods of time with him in that form.>

<You have not,> replied Ax.

There was a weirdly tense moment where no one spoke. I swear I could _feel_ the suspicion in the air. Finally, one of the Andalites said,  <Who taught you humans how to fly a spacecraft?>

This time, Jeanne spoke up. “I was infested during the war, sir,” she said. “I learned how to pilot a ship during that period.” She spoke slowly and was doing her best to hide her sexy accent. She sounded for all the world like a hesitant but otherwise typical California girl. Which, of course, she didn’t need to do, seeing how the Andalites probably couldn’t tell the difference between one accent and the next. What an overachiever. She was like a hot, French Topanga. I’ve never been sure if I have a bigger crush on her or Shawn, but if I’m being honest with myself, my heart belongs to Minkus. Was Minkus still in L.A.? Could I find Minkus actor and fuck him? Probably. I’m very famous.

I shook my head, forcing myself to focus. Jeanne’s story had absolutely no basis in reality, I knew that for sure. Jeanne had been in England during the invasion, which she had mentioned, once, during one of the ping-pong tournaments. She still managed to really really sell it. She even tensed her body as she said the words ‘that period,’ as if it really were something she didn’t want to talk about, and not something that she pulled completely from her ass. She was good. She was very, very good.

Elrenyl stared at her, then turned away. <Humans are nonsensical,> he said. He indicated the door. <Fine. We will treat your friend Todd Johnson as best we can. In the meantime, please, follow me.>

 

—-

 

We were led outside, which was probably the greatest thing to happen to me all year. We’d landed on planets a few times in our trip, but we never stayed for very long. Trying to find the Blade Ship had been like trying to find a needle in a haystack, which was in another haystack, and that haystack was yet in another haystack, and all these haystacks were randomly placed in the vast expanse of space. It gave us this weird sense of urgency, even if we’d had exactly zero leads and no idea where we were going. We had known where the Blade Ship had been at one point, and that point was getting further and further away from us as days went on. That made every wasted moment feel like time flushed down a toilet. Jake even made us leave the planet of the Sexy Pink Panther With Feathery Angel Wings People after barely four days, even if I think I kind of had something going on with the tribe chief’s daughter. Jacob Berenson has _no_ taste for romance.

Getting to go outside while _knowing_ we had Ax was a whole different thing. Maybe it was the buzz, but I actually felt sort of _happy_ while walking on Andalite. I was breathing fresh air. I was stretching my legs. Sure, Jake had signed himself up for another suicidal mission because the first one didn’t kill him dead enough, but I could take a minute to stop and smell the disturbingly neon yellow flowers.

I craned my neck up and looked at the sky.

I already knew the Andalite sky was supposed to be red. Ax had told us about that a few times, and he always made it sound very _Dawn Of The Dead._ I’d ask hey, Ax-man, what’s it like having a sky the color of blood. He’d launch into some long tirade about how _our_ blood color was gross, that red was quite calming, and that human eyes were ill equipped to deal with real beauty. I’d ask him if humans were so terrible at graceful beauty, then how did he explain the bean scene in _Blazing Saddles._ Then he would go suddenly silent, which mean he was talking shit about me to Tobias in private thought-speak.

So I knew the sky was red, but I wasn’t at all ready for the color being just absolutely _pleasant._ It was much less apocalypse, more gentle sunrise. You ever see a scene shot in the golden hour? A bitch to film, but it always looks great. Everyone and everything gets this romantic, soft glow. People start to look like moving paintings, all warm yellows and golden skin. That’s the sort of light cast upon us from the Andalite sky. We looked like we were on the verge of quietly sharing first kisses and then smash cutting to a wide landscape shot with our kissing forms backlit against the golden suns. I hoped mine would be with Jeanne, but I’d settle for Jake if necessary.

While I was looking up at the sky, I saw a bunch of white dots streak against the sky, like airplanes back on Earth. It was weirdly familiar. I smiled.

Then, I saw exactly one black dot zoom in the complete opposite direction. My smile faded.

I pointed up at the sky. “Where are you taking our ship?” I asked.

Elrenyl pointed one stalk eye upwards. <I’m not sure what you are referring to,> he said.

I kept looking upward. “All Andalite ships are white. Ours is black. That black ship isn’t going to the same place as all the other ships.”

<We have other Yeerk vessels in our possession,> said Elrenyl, as condescending as he possibly could be. I glared at him. <It is of no concern to you what we do with our ships.>

“It is if that ship is the _Rachel,_ ” I said. “My stuff’s on it.”

He rolled a stalk eye toward the Anti-Ax-Brigade. They shared the same sort of look that I knew, _knew_ , was an asshole smirk.

<What you call the _Rachel_ is damaged past repair, > said Elrenyl. <Your ‘stuff’, as it were, will be returned in time.> He turned a stalk eye toward the chucklefucks.

Normally, this is the part where I play dumb and pocket my suspicions until I knew more about the situation, but I just wasn’t in the mood for that at the moment. “Bullshit,” I said. “We made it to the _Blossom_ just fine, and there’s no way —”

“Let it go, Marco,” said Jake, sounding tired and angry. “Stop. It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, but it does,” I said, biting and cold. “Without your ship, how _will_ you go on your noble quest?”

Jake sighed. “I’ll figure it out,” he mumbled.

<What is he referring to?> one of the Andalites asked.

Jake licked his lips and glanced at me nervously. “We’ll talk later,” he said.

I glared at Jake. “Yeah,” I said. “We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for self-medicating with alcohol, drunk narration, panic attacks, light homophobia, and cheerful misogyny.


	3. Tobias

As soon as we landed planetside, my wings itched with a burning desire to just  _ fly. _ I resisted, even if holding back all that restless energy was practically causing me pain. Thing is, you don’t survive as long as I do without listening to your body, and it turns out that six months locked in a spaceship isn’t mega-great for a bird! The Andalites really had not planned for me at all. Do you know how easy it would been to just have a cage of mice for me to snack on? Mice procreate pretty quickly. That’s kind of their thing. Instead, there were just a few bags of falconer’s treats in the kitchen, which are dietary supplements, not replacements. I was starving. I  _ needed _ to go on a proper hunt, but going off on my own was definitely not an option. So, no flying. I rode on Ax’s tail.

For a while, it was nice. Peaceful. I think everyone needed the walk. Marco’s drunk ass was asking a ton of annoying questions for a while, but eventually he’d fallen silent. That lasted for a whole ten minutes before he loudly asked, “Are we there yet?”

The sound of his voice clawed at my ears, making me feel itchy and mad. Marco had spent the last six months cycling through four moods. You’d get a couple of weeks where he was actually entertaining and pretty fun, like he was when times were almost good as kids; then he’d get all irritated and prone to snapping or having a fit over nothing; then he’d lock himself in his room and you’d see him even less than you saw Jake; then he’d be drunk. Rinse, recycle, repeat. I hated the drunk phase. I hated being around anyone who was drinking, nevermind Marco, who got that much louder and more obnoxious. He had been so rude to those Andalites, I was worried he was halfway to launching some kind of human versus Andalite war! Not that I cared. I mean, I’m a bird, I can’t get drafted.

You couldn’t tell him to stop though, oh no! Marco had auctioned off our personal stories for cash and attention, and had gotten way too much of both. Now, he was totally unable to comprehend the word ‘No.’ I tried to tell him to maybe  _ not _ wander around wasted, more than once, and eventually Jake told me to stop bothering with it. He said asking him to chill out only made it worse. The only thing you could do was wait it out, or hope Santorelli would distract him.

I was more than happy to get as far away from Marco as possible. I’m definitely sticking with Jake, whether he wants me to or not, only this time I’m going to make sure we get a couple of bunnies going at it so that I can finally have a good and proper breakfast.

<I do not understand,> said Elrenyl to Marco. <You will know when we have arrived at the hotel. It will be visible. I apologize, I do not often work with humans. Is your eyesight so poor that you will require verbal confirmation?>

Marco laughed and nudged Santorelli. Ax looked toward the War-Prince.

<’Are we there yet’ is a question with many layers,> Ax said calmly. <It is often asked by Earth children who are bored while traveling, much to the chagrin of mothers and fathers. At times, a human adult may use the phrase for comedic effect. Marco is aware we are not yet ‘there.’ He is more so wondering how much longer he will have to walk.>

<Ah,> said Elrenyl. <Do humans not enjoy a run after a long space journey?>

“Maybe just a twenty minute one,” said Jake, a little sheepishly. I think he felt bad that he was kind of out of shape, even if Marco was the one who started complaining in the first place. Seeing how Marco took every opportunity he had to make fun of Jake’s body, I totally understood why Jake would be embarrassed.

“Look, we’re from Southern California,” said Marco, half shouting. He didn’t really slur like my uncle, but he sure as hell got loud. He basically yelled everything he said. “We don’t walk. We drive the three blocks to the 7/11, drive back home, buy bottled water because tap water tastes weird, and then we complain about people disrespecting the environment.”

<Southern California is the region of The United States of America where Santa Barbara is located,> interrupted Ax patiently. <7/11 is a store, often located in a convenient location, where a human may purchase nourishment or other necessaries. Marco is currently employing a humor technique known as ‘hyperbole’, as a human would most likely not use a carbon emission vehicle for such a short distance.>

“You would be surprised,” muttered Jeanne.

<I see,> said Elrenyl. <What is your point?>

“Just that I’m too Hollywood for a hike,” he said. “I’m enjoying our walk, sure, but in about twenty more of “our” minutes, these Manolo Blahniks are going to start  _ killing _ my feet. It can happen to men too, you know.”

“Probably because you’re wearing lifts,” said Santorelli, smiling.

Marco gasped, theatrically bringing a hand to his chest. “What, me? Wear Hollywood man heels to give myself a the illusion of height?  _ Never, _ ” he said.

I can’t really explain why, but that was it for me. I couldn’t sit here and listen to Marco suck everyone into forced, cheerful banter. I knew when he was putting on a show, and I didn’t want to be an audience member. I pushed myself off of Ax’s tail and rose into the sky, higher and higher, forcefully ignoring everyone’s protests.

 

—-

 

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been flying. All I knew was that I had already pushed my body well past it’s breaking point, but I still wasn’t done flying.

The Andalite homeworld was spectacular. Ax and I used to talk about what it was like, back in the day. He told me all about the gold and red sky, the almost eternal tropical weather, and the beautiful foliage. I always knew the updrafts and thermals would be amazing. They were. I wanted to fly forever.

Only I’d greatly overestimated my endurance.

I was definitely pushing my wings too far. I felt weak and shaky and soft. Once, I ate a poisoned rat, and kind of felt like this, but I realized what was happening and morphed it off. Morphing gets rid of poison. It doesn’t really get rid of malnutrition. You can morph out of it for two hours, but when you return to your original body, it comes back from Z-space as is unless you have any glaring or debilitating injuries. I’d definitely figured that one out over the years. I don’t know much about morphing tech, but I have a feeling DNA and Z-space know a lot about regenerating limbs, but not so much about the effects of hunger.

Every part of my body was telling me to land and rest, but I couldn’t. Knew I couldn’t. If I wanted to feel better, I needed to stretch my wings and then eat something. Anything. Alright, so I didn’t know anything about the animals on Andalite. Maybe they were all poisonous to hawks. I wouldn’t know. No one would, really. There was only one sentient hawk in the whole galaxy, and as a founding member of my own endangered species, trial and error was pretty much my go-to research method. If my experience with the poisoned rat was right, I could probably shake off the bad stuff and come back to my real body feeling full and happy.

Unless the morphing tech recognized Andalite nutritional compounds as healthy and didn’t understand it was hurting my Earth body.

Whatever, dude. I was starving.

I flew and flew, taking it slow and easy, letting the Andalite thermals carry my body up and up and up. I couldn’t get enough of this planet. The further I flew from the space base, the prettier it got. At first, I saw all these souped up versions of Ax’s scoop, all spread out about a mile from one another. Rather than being just a literal hole in the ground, these scoops came with beautiful, well cultivated gardens, full of flowers and plants of every shape and color. The scoop “roofs” tended to be made from cerulean vines that twisted together in intricate patterns, like Celtic knots. Other scoop roofs looked like sky bouquets, all blue flowers and leaves that were artfully arranged. I wondered if scoop roofs were the Christmas lights of Andalite. Did Andalite dads have weird, unspoken rivalries over who could have the best flowers?

My thoughts turned to Elfangor and Loren. I tried not to fantasize about them too much, but now that I was really seeing my dad’s homeworld, I couldn’t help but think of them. What would have happened, if the Ellimist never intervened? Would Elfangor have gardened? Would he have planted flowering vines and climbing moss, covering our home with color and life, mimicking the lush florals of his childhood home? Loren had Elfangor had lived in Vermont, where rain wasn’t as precious and plants could thrive. What would my childhood home have looked like? I think I would have had a backyard that looked like a fairytale garden. I would have make friends and brought them over for dinner and we’d all have eaten home cooked meals at a vintage, wrought iron table, talking and laughing. My friends would want to come over again and again to play at my dreamy, magical home.

I pushed the thought away. Sometimes, imagining stuff like that was just a really nice daydream. Other times, it made me really bitter and dark. I definitely needed to eat something before I wandered further down the scary road of what ifs. 

I rested on a tree, briefly, when the shaking in my muscles got a little too intense. I watched a group of five Andalites play beneath me. There were three small ones. Two that were really tiny and one that looked kind of like Ax did when we found him, only purple. They were throwing a ball around, keeping it in the air with their tail blades. One of the little ones dropped the ball and the other little one slapped them with the flat of their tail blade. Immediately, the teenaged Andalite’s own tail blade was at the kid’s chest. The kid’s body language tensed, and they flinched backwards.

The other kid trained a stalk eye on me and pointed up to the tree.

I pushed myself off the branch, even if it was the last thing my muscles wanted. I would rather pass out from physical exhaustion than I would like to talk to alien strangers.

I flew up and up, until I saw a cropping of trees that were much too thick to hold scoops. This must be the Untamed Wilds. Ax told me they were dangerous, but all I could see was a McDonald’s for hawks. Finally, real meat!

I swooped down, focusing my eyes on all movement, trying to figure out just what kind of alien life lived down there and which one of them looked the weakest.

I sensed something behind me. I dipped down and flipped midair, a pretty weird maneuver for an actual hawk, but it was a great method to see behind me in a way another bird wouldn’t expect.

I almost fell out of the sky when I saw the thing. It was huge. Really, really huge. Like, golden eagle, eat your heart out huge. It had to be giant, seeing how it had six wings. Three pairs in all. Its long body was segmented into three parts and it was really,  _ really _ fast.

<Uh,> I said.

The  _ thing  _ looked at me and blinked. I immediately dipped around a tree. Weaving around branches was one way to get certain birds of prey off your back. Unfortunately, most of these Andalite trees didn’t have a ton of branches. Some flared at the top, just slightly, but most were like huge sticks with bushes dropped on top. Not a lot of places to hide. 

I flipped midair and got a good look at the monster bird. I think Visser Three morphed it, once, way back when, but that memory wasn’t going to do me any good right now. Visser Three didn’t exactly practice fighting in the same morph over and over. This birdie was  _ real _ , and it had to hunt to survive, and that meant I was toast if I wasn’t careful. It was closing in on me, and  _ fast _ . I caught air with my left wing and used my right as a pivot point, launching myself away. Typically, this is a good way to lose a predator. They don’t have the advantage of using their bodies like a cool, tiny fighter jet.

My muscles spasmed and my stomach clenched. I was way, way not ready for this.

I twisted until I could see the bird.

He lifted his middle left wing up, just slightly, and kept his farthest left wing down. The wings on its right side pushed air away from him, all at once. He was using his wings like sails! It was like I was this canoe with two guys manually pushing forward on a river, and he was this huge competitive row boat with six dudes all working together to go exactly where they wanted. This guy was commanding the air. It didn’t matter what way the wind blew for him, or how many updrafts he could get. He was a machine. A gift of evolution. 

And he really, really wanted to eat me.

I banked to the left. He followed. I dipped low to the ground. He followed. I flew upward toward the suns, desperate, blinded by light and slowed by my own weak body. He closed in on me.

<Back off, you dumb bully!> I shouted to him in loud thought-speak, hoping it would freak him out and he’d leave. Maybe it wasn’t the wittiest of insults, but I was desperate. I knew I had ideas, knew I could reach deeper within me and figure something out, but I was so hungry — so fuzzy — everything was —

I needed to morph. 

But where? This wasn’t any forest I knew, and morphing required a good two minutes of shelter. I need to get close to land and start, immediately. Cheetah normally did the trick. Where could I go? All of these trees were thin and useless. No wonder Ax was always amazed by all the biodiversity on Earth. Not much room for evolution with this crazy bird around! This big guy would decimate the competition. Survival of the fittest turned into survival of this one bird of prey.

I started spiraling, tired and desperate. My wings burned. Every push forward was torture. The bird was closing in on me. I had to start morphing, shelter or no shelter. Maybe Mr. Bird wouldn’t go for my neck right away. Maybe it would just start eating the good stuff in my stomach, giving me time to switch forms while it chowed down. I’ve been there before. I could —

A flash!

The bird went down like a log. His dying, falling form revealed a familiar Andalite, staring at me with a look I knew was disapproval.

<This was not a wise choice,> said Ax.

<I, uh — yeah. Yeah. Guess not,> I said.

He held his tail out to me. 

<I’m fine!> I said.

<You are not. Please, I do not have the emotional fortitude to engage in a pointless debate over your obvious lack of well-being,> he said. I could feel just how tired he was underneath his words. He wasn’t lying. 

I hopped on. I had ridden on his tail a few times when I was too battle weary to fly back to our home in the woods. He said he didn’t really have much feeling close to the blade, so I didn’t feel too bad about it. It was pretty embarrassing right now, though. I really did feel like a kid that got lost at the mall and now his uncle was making him hold his hand everywhere.

<That was a  _ kafit _ bird,> said Ax. <They are one of the predators that used to prey upon Andalites when we were mere herd animals. They are very dangerous. The only reason I was able to defeat one was due to its fixation on you.>

<Yeah. I loosened the jar for you,> I said.

<Please do not joke right now,> said Ax. <I am very upset. The Untamed Wilds are not safe.>

<I’m starving!> I said. <Literally!>

Ax looked at me with a stalk eye and there was something about the way he did it that made me feel pretty small. <You have worried your comrades.> Ax’s tone was always even and all the other guys would kind of laugh at his lack of expressiveness, but I knew if you paid attention, you could feel all the ‘vibes’ he was sending underneath. Right now, I was picking up on some serious attitude. He was pretty ticked off.

In the past, Ax was always too cautious and reserved to really assert himself. Even when all of us were debating, he’d just reiterate that as an Andalite, he had no business meddling in human affairs, and that had pretty much been his stance on everything. Now, he was a prince, and had apparently gotten good at the whole disapproval thing. He’d grown a backbone, even. Part of me was proud to see him like this, but most of me was embarrassed he was pointing all this new authority at me.

I shifted my feet, getting a better grip on his tail. <I’m sorry,> I said, trying to send waves of earnestness to Ax. <I really am. That was pretty impulsive of me.>

<Yes,> said Ax. <It was very impulsive to fly away from the group today.>

He didn’t add anything else, but I could still feel the anger and resentment coming from him. I’d been feeling it a little bit back on the  _ Rachel _ , but I just thought it was because of what he’d went through. I mean, he understandably had a lot of complex emotions about the whole situation. Now, he was  _ just _ frustrated, and all of that frustration was directed at me.

I had no idea why. The issue was definitely too difficult to deal with while my stomach was still so empty. <Hey, uh, Ax,> I said, my words small and tentative. <Do you mind if I snack on this guy?> I jerked my head toward the  _ kafit _ as best I could.

Ax turned one stalk eye toward the carcass. <A  _ kafit _ does not fulfill all your nutritional requirements, but it will suffice for now.>

I hopped off his tail and started eating. The meat was thick and bloody and still mostly warm. I don’t really have a sense of taste, but I  _ can _ feel heat and texture, and believe me, this was the best meal of my bird life. I wanted to eat my fill and then some, but I was still enough of a human to slow myself down, and make sure I ate slowly and carefully. When I was done, I fluttered back up to Ax’s tail. I was still muscle worn and exhausted, but the food was the first step toward real strength.

<You are ready to leave?> asked Ax. He still felt really angry.

<Yeah,> I said.

<Please allow me to fight on your behalf,> said Ax. <I will protect us from further danger.> More anger. More bitterness.

I still couldn’t figure it out. Ax started to run in silence. 

<Hey, um,> I said, desperate for conversation. <If the  _ kafit _ bird isn’t the best meat for me, then what is?>

<All proteins on Homeworld are digestible by the red-tailed hawk _ , _ > he said, almost as if he were reciting something. He was still annoyed, but at least he was distracted. <There are five animals that are rough equivalents of the prey you consumed on Earth, both in size and in nutritional content. Of these animals, the  _ garian _ are the most prolific. They look somewhat like Earth rabbits, though they are hairless, very quick, and have no ears. However, I would advise you against consuming any  _ garian  _ located near a  _ thiostill _ plant. They are red vines with large, purple flowers. I will find you a visual to ensure your recognition. Some subspecies have evolved to withstand the vine’s poisonous make-up in order to make themselves unappetizing and deadly to predators. Were you to consume one such  _ garian _ , you would die within three Earth minutes.>

I blinked. <That’s a lot more information than I expected.>

<I have looked into this issue previously,> he said. The resentment was no longer an undercurrent. It was a big, giant waterfall and I was stuck right underneath.

I puffed up my chest feathers. <Okay, Ax, I get it. You’re mad. Just tell me why, okay?> I asked. It could have sounded petulant to anyone listening, but Ax could feel my ‘vibes’ too, and he knew I was honestly confused.

With effort, Ax twisted his body to look at me with his main eyes, keeping his stalk eyes pointed forward to steer him safely. <I wanted to take you back to Andalite with me, but no one could find you. I asked every time I visited Earth. Three of your years and nearly one of mine passed, and yet, there was no sign of you. I felt betrayed.>

You had to hand it to the Ax-man. He could be a cagey guy about most things, but when he was mad at you, he held nothing back.

<Oh,> I said. I felt a shock of weakness shudder through me, mingling awkwardly with a sinking feeling of guilt. <I’m — I’m sorry.>

<That is all?> he asked.

<It’s all I’ve got for now,> I said.

He ran even faster. The trees went from shapeless colors to complete blurs. Ax was running faster than I’d ever seen him run. Now, I was the one worrying about _ him  _ extending himself too far.

<Hey, man,> I said. <Are you afraid of these woods? Seriously, I can morph. I’d be refreshed and ready to help you fight if something comes at us. Chill out, alright?>

He said nothing, but I could feel his emotions. I didn’t know if it was because he meant to share them with me, or if he was just suddenly so wild and untamed that he was radiating everything he felt without control. I was getting sadness, loneliness, frustration, fear. Honestly, they were all things I felt myself acutely, emotions that clutched me when the night got too quiet and my memories spun slowly toward me. I could feel my heart quickening and my lungs shrinking. Never a good thing for a bird, especially one that had just tasted its first morsel of actual meat in months.

<Ax, what’s going on?> I asked, useless and lost. I could tell he was going deeper into the Untamed Wilds rather than leaving them. I was pretty good at juggling flying distance, time traveled, and Ax’s speed in my head. With how fast he’d been running, we should have been back into the developed areas by now. We were not. The trees were only growing thicker and weirder.

Ax didn’t answer me. I dug my aching talons deeper into his tail, my heart going hummingbird fast. We were going at highway speeds, eighty miles an hour, dodging thorn branches and wet flowers with centimeters to spare. With every step Ax took, I felt more panic. With every step Ax took, I grew more understanding.

A lot had happened to him. I’m no expert on emotions — I can barely understand my own — but Ax had lost his entire crew and his body, and he only knew how it happened because of stories told from strange mouths. All he could do is accept the stories, and paste them upon the blackness of his mind. The more he ran, the more he pushed his body past the limits I knew he had, the more I started to feel for him. We never had a bond like Gafinilan and Mertil, but I think we had a sort of something similiar. I could feel the ghosts of Ax’s thoughts, sometimes, when he was feeling things intensely, when both his hearts were full. I don’t think the others could. If they did, then they weren’t paying enough attention to feel it. I knew I hadn’t felt any emotional ghosts from any other Andalite. Even Mertil, who had become a sort of roommate to me after Gafinilan passed. He and I stalked the same forest after the war, two broken halves, running and flying and never catching up to what we were looking for.

Ax was the only family I’d ever known. The first family to accept me, to even  _ like  _ me. Whatever that meant between Andalites gave us some awareness of one another, a sense beyond most. It wasn’t very deep, we had n’t dug wells into one another, but we had dug deep enough for us.

Ax was in pain, so Ax was running. I understood that better than anyone.

 

—-

 

For what must have been nearly an hour, I rode on Ax while he not-so-metaphorically ran from himself. He kept up the same insane speed until he actually collapsed, his front legs buckling first before he fell down entirely. I let him lie there, breathing shallow and fast, making a sort of rumbling, purring noise that I could recognize as a sort of Andalite wheeze. While he recovered, I morphed cheetah. Once I was muscle-coiled and powerful, I stalked a circle around my friend.

<You told me, once, that Andalites had made all their predators extinct,> I said.

<Yes,> said Ax, his thought-speak coming in weak.

<But the Untamed Wilds are still dangerous,> I said.

<Yes,> said Ax. <Prey creatures must cope with violence and trickery, and they possess their own sort of danger.>

<True,> I said. I paused my pacing. <Do you feel better?> I asked.

Ax was silent for a moment. <No,> he said.

<That’s okay,> I said. I paced around him again. <I scratched up your tail pretty bad. It’s still bleeding. Sorry about that.>

<I do not care,> he said.

I stopped pacing for just a moment and really took Ax in. He was lying on his side, which was the least dignified of any position he could take. I’d seen him tuck his legs beneath him as a comfortable way to relax aching muscles every now and then, but I hadn’t seen him on his side since he was dying with the  _ yamphut. _ He was wheezing. His main eyes were watery and a much darker blue than usual. His stalk eyes were hardly moving.

There was nothing I could do about the trauma he’d experienced, except to let him feel his own sadness. So, I just kept pacing.

Nothing came toward us. I think my presence made them wary. Most animals are smart enough not to mess with something they don’t understand. Sure, that  _ kafit _ did, but he was just a big bully who needed to prove something. Now I was tan and spotted and smelled like nothing he had smelled before. Just walking around Ax and spreading my scent was probably enough to protect Ax from the dangers of poison-filled Andalite-mice and smarter  _ kafits. _

I circled around him for a long, long time. Ax stopped wheezing, but he didn’t get up. I started to feel safe enough that I left him for a while, searching for one of the  _ garians _ Ax had mentioned before. I found one and stalked it for a while, trying to figure out exactly how I would hunt one in my regular form. 

Eventually, Ax stood up. He shook, slightly, but seemed about okay as he was going to get. I trotted up to him, then sat on my hind legs and looked at his main eyes.

<Do you want to go back to the spaceport?> I asked. <I watched the sky. I think I can figure out how to get back based on their positions.> I was pretty proud of that, to be honest. You could drop me in the middle of nowhere on an alien planet and I’d still find my way home. I was and always would be the Animorphs’ eyes.

He fidgeted on his hooves, like a human who was adjusting their weight but a bit more pronounced. <I do not think I want to go back,> he said.

I licked a paw. There was a bit of wood (if anything on Andalite could be called wood) stuck in my claw and it was bothering me. <We can stay out here for a bit,> I said, <But we should probably go back before people worry.>

<It is not that,> said Ax. <I am not hiding from society.>

<I —>

<Allow me to clarify,> said Ax, holding out a hand. I blinked. Ax never used to interrupt people. <I am not making an indirect comment about avoiding responsibilities. I simply do not want to go back, not yet.>

<It’s okay if you were making an indirect comment about me,> I said. <I’d understand.> This body was starting to feel bulky and prickly, but Ax was still visibly shaking. I wouldn’t demorph until he looked better. I stretched out my front legs. <I should have checked in with you,> I blurted out. <I see that now. I just always thought you’d go back to your real planet and, you know. Just hit restart and be happier in a new life.>

<And I should not have been impatient with your mourning period,> said Ax. I got some feelings of unease from him, as if he wanted to say more but wasn’t going to. I didn’t push it. Some people in our situation might have needed a bit more conversation, possibly some crying and some tears, but not us. We took each other at face value. I believed what he said, and he believed me. That was enough. If he wanted to say something else, then I trusted him to say it later, when he was ready.

He looked up through the trees with his main eyes, as if he were in the middle of a ritual, with his face turned toward the suns. <I, too, can read positions from our astral bodies. I believe . . . I believe some secret part of me was propelling me toward my parents’ scoop. If we fly, we could be there in exactly ninety-eight Earth minutes.>

I wanted to start demorphing. I didn’t. This body suddenly felt comfortable and safe. It wasn’t a hawk, my chosen and preferred body that required so, so much explanation.

<Oh,> was all I managed.

<I know you are anxious,> said Ax, <But I must go to them soon. They are sure to be worried. This is the second time they have thought they had lost me.>

<Oh,> I said again.

<Tobias,> said Ax, turning all four eyes toward me, <Will you please accompany me?>

I knew I was unnaturally still. I hadn’t moved since I realized what Ax wanted. 

<Do they know?> I asked after an eternity of silence.

<Yes,> said Ax. <I will not tell you that they accepted it in whole, without periods of disbelief or anger at Elfangor’s perversion.>

<Perversion?> I snapped, my already weakened emotional state allowing anger to swell within me.

<As I did,> said Ax, his thought-speak soaring in loud over my outburst, <They soon saw the romance, the passion, and the love in his story. They know you are brave and kind. They will be thrilled to meet you.>

I looked at him, noticing his fur was matted and dirty, his hooves were dull, and his stalk eyes were still hardly moving compared to an Andalite’s regular vigilance. Slowly, I started demorphing. I was so reluctant that it was like forcing my way upstream on a river, but I did it. I gained back my feathers and my hollow bones and my beak. I was full, but my body still felt a little wonky. That made me weirdly mad. I was on my way to meet my grandparents with the bird equivalent of unbrushed hair and stained pajamas.

Would they notice?

Ax’s main eyes were so, so dark. I think it was a sort of Andalite version of a burst blood vessel in the whites of his eyes. Ax wasn’t doing too great, and he needed to be with his family more than I needed to prepare for our meeting.

I drew in as much air into my lungs as I could. Ax was already morphing into a  _ kafit. _ When he was done, I nodded my head.

<Lead the way, Uncle Ax,> I said.

He launched into the air. I followed.


	4. Aximili

My run had been necessary, though unplanned. I did not feel better, nor did I feel differently. It is just that I have felt, and have allowed myself to feel, and I am distantly aware that that is in some way meaningful. 

We flew over the Untamed Wilds and toward my parents’ home without further incident. I demorphed at my father’s pond, hiding among the rocks he’d placed there. My father has an aptitude for waterscapes, and he designed this pond himself as a youth. I leaned over the still water, and I took a moment to ponder my reflection.

I understand much more about morphing technology now than I did as an  _ aristh _ . The technology is something of a happy accident, a result of exploration in an unrelated field, and it is difficult to control in they way we use it. It was originally designed without DNA restoration in mind, but once it was discovered that morphs would return from Z-space unharmed, healing was programmed in. Yet the line between what must returned healed and what must be left alone, such as a misbehaved warrior’s  _ unschweet _ shearings, is difficult to program. This results in an inconsistently returned body. I have lost limbs and they have returned, yet the scarred tissue from a burn suffered as a child still left a bald spot on my left flank. How minor injuries manifested when I regained my true form was always guesswork at best, even for someone as knowledgeable as Menderash, and he claims that there is nothing that confuses him.

Dirt from my time shamelessly lying on the ground had washed away, and my tail had mended from the wounds left by Tobias’s talons. The morphing had not soothed my matted fur, or brightened my hooves, or straightened the drooping in my stalk eyes. I was in dire need of grooming. The One had clearly had no concern for my physical appearance, but I had, admittedly, not done much to rectify the situation in the days between my consciousness returning and now. It seemed trivial. My eyes were still filled with blood, an unmistakable sign of stress and exhaustion. I should have had an associate contact my parents on my behalf, and then I should have rested back at the spaceport, preparing my body for my parents’ acceptance. At my age and with with my status, it was wildly inappropriate to show myself in such disarray.

I did not care. I wished for them to meet Tobias. I  _ needed _ them to meet Tobias. With both my hearts so heavy and my mind so contemplative, these introductions were a needed piece of happiness. It was imperative that Tobias experience Andalite culture in its fullness. He must meet my parents. He must meet my  _ garibah. _ He must reach deep into his roots and pull from them strength, so that he may blossom and grow with beauty and grace. He is Elfangor’s son, and he is my kin. My people are wary of our own optimism, but we are optimists all the same, and my family folding Tobias into its fabric is a small gift of joy in an otherwise dark situation.

I blinked my main eyes rapidly, attempting to wash away the dark blue blood and return them to a healthy light green. Of course, it did not work.

I turned toward Tobias.

<There is a ritual,> I said, brushing at a particularly knotted patch of fur on my chest with my tail blade, <For parents meeting their children’s children for the first time, traditionally performed four days after the birth. It is the closest ritual for this situation.>

<Alright,> said Tobias. 

I could tell he was nervous. I was nervous as well. Neither of us were feeling our best, and my parents did not know this was happening. I knew I should leave and spend time preparing more fully for this moment, but I was uninterested in formalities. They would accept Tobias, for he was of our blood. He would listen to my father’s stories from his time in the military, and feel awed by his grandfather’s brave deeds. He would watch my mother work on our family’s welding, and admire her delicate fingers as she transformed dirty metal into sleek ducts. Tobias was our family, just as his father had been. I have wished for my parents and Tobias to know each other for so long, and I would have this moment now, when I needed it most.

I shifted my weight, fidgeting from one hoof to another. A terrible habit of mine, one that the War-Princes and Princes who opposed me mocked mercilessly, often in range of my stalk eyes. 

<I have never had to perform this ritual, of course, but I have seen it done. It will be close enough, especially as this situation is unique. It doesn’t have to be perfect,> I laughed, another strange habit from Aximili of Earth, a thought-speak mimicry of a sound I could not make. <After all, you are far from my child.>

<I mean, I guess,> said Tobias. <Ax-man, maybe we should —>

<Come,> I said, walking toward the main part of the scoop.

Tobias did not immediately follow. I rose my tail, indicating he should perch. Dutifully, he did.

I had not been to my parents’ scoop in some time. It is very different than mine. It is larger, for one. My status as Prince requires me to live close to the spaceport, and the homes there are much smaller than the family scoops. My scoop is also much less cultivated and, unfortunately, far more cluttered. Menderash and I share a home, and he has a penchant for unnecessary physical possessions. I do not even know where he finds half his things, or how, exactly, they are meant to contribute to our household. For instance, he owns seven staplers, all of different sizes and colors. He has no idea what they do, and yet they are displayed in our grazing field.

While my scoop is an artless display of strange materials that Menderash hax collected, my parents’ scoop is much more naturalistic. The path to the living quarters diverted and curled around various ponds and streams, and my father had made perfect use of  _ enos ernarf _ and  _ enos milayr. _ Light peaked through branches and cast intentional patterns upon the water, patterns that had different meanings contingent on the positions of the suns. My father’s choice of color was many layered, and the poems told within his plants changed in tone depending on where you stood. All Andalites had an innate and intimate understanding of nature, but for my father, waterscapes were his peace. It was a noise he could create against his warrior’s quiet. It is well known that Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf’s scoop was more stunning than most.

Not for the first time, I wish I had grown up here. 

We were growing closer to the living quarters, where at least one of my parents would inevitably be. <Please, perch upon my shoulder,> I said to Tobias. He complied without a word. I do not prefer him on my shoulders, as I am much more sensitive to his talons there, but we cut a striking figure. I walked forward.

I do not often see my parents. When I returned from Earth, there was a brief period when we were close, before I accepted my position as Prince. I was still mourning the noble death of a dear comrade-in-arms, the sudden absence of Tobias, and the bittersweet loss of my Earth life. My parents brought me in, and they showed me comfort. They were patient when I fell into my own quiet, and gave me space. They brought me specialized grasses, and made sure my body acclimated itself back to proper Andalite nutrients without sickness. When we ran as a unit, they slowed themselves, to allow my smaller legs to keep up. I aided my father in his landscaping, and he gave me calming tasks that were within my capabilities. I continued my apprenticeship in building, learning how to craft the ducts just so to not allow any precious water or air to leak. It was a gentle and soothing period. Toward the end, I almost felt as if I were nearly a whole and complete Andalite.

This lasted a mere sixteen days, the rough equivalent of a human month. It quickly became apparent I had become nearly as alien to them as I had been to my human friends. It started when I casually mentioned that I appreciated humanity’s many different languages and cultures. My father said it lead to constant barbaric wars. I agreed that that was appalling, but continued to explain the merits. When two cultures meet and merge, beautiful art is often a result. For instance, without the cuisine of Mexico developing independently in California, we would never have the sublime taste experience of a Crunchwrap Supreme.

My father could not separate my support from my opinions. He heard my praise as criticisms against Andalites, and accused me of truly becoming “The Treasonous Aximili of Earth.” He retreated, and did not speak to me for a four day. 

My mother made further attempts to bond with me, but we constantly came to blows on the subject of humans. It is common on Andalite to rewrite the story so that I am the hero and not Prince Jake, and to ignore the Earth versions of the stories as human hubris. I worked hard to dispel these rumors, though it did little good. When my own mother told me that I exaggerated their accomplishments, it hurt me deeply. I tried to explain the merits of humanity to her over and over, and she would not listen. I never even spoke of Elfangor and Loren. I had leaked the story to the media, or what passes for media on Andalite. It was a known thing. My father had acknowledged it, but I was too scared to directly speak of it with my mother. I knew she would not have accepted its truth, and that lack of acceptance would have hurt me. So, I became a Prince, moved closer to the spaceport, and I rarely contacted them.

My mother could not argue with the physical existence of Tobias, the second-chance  _ nothlit _ that could morph. There was no other way to accept Tobias’s reality than to accept Elfangor’s choices. Perhaps if she met Tobias, her views on other humans would soften.

I looked at Tobias with my stalk eyes. He was nervously preening his feathers. He did not want to do this. I did not care. I was a Prince of the People. Before that, I was Aximili of Earth, a soldier fighting under Jacob Berenson. It is rare I allow myself to act as Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, unconcerned with others’ needs. I felt as if I had earned it.

I carefully pushed away my feelings of unease and allowed my mind to open. It is gentle and respectful to announce oneself with one’s mental essence. On Earth, it was customary to perform the jarring task of ‘knocking’ against a door. I have many negative things to say about Earth, perhaps more than I do positive ones. I wish more people understood the complexity of my feelings, rather than casting me as a  _ nothisshorm _ for having a few positive thoughts.

_ Nothisshorm _ translates, quite directly, to ‘alien fucker.’

I stood in front of my parents home, and I waited. 

I heard, <Aximili-kala!>

My father made his way toward me, unaccompanied by my mother. This was to be expected. Men spend their youth serving in the military, while women learn the arts and sciences. When a man’s military career is over and he chooses a mate with whom to procreate, he is allowed to rest and raise the young, while the woman continues to support her family’s status by contributing to our culture. It is almost a complete role reversal of human standards, all of which I now see as pointless. Undersecretary Cassandra Gardner would be suited for our structure, but faces ridicule by her own people. My father fits his role well, but on Earth would be torn apart for being effeminate. Women on Andalite are discouraged from military service, yet Rachel Berenson had been the fiercest warrior I’d ever known.

My father was projecting an overwhelming sense of happy surprise. I returned it as best I could. My Andalite ancestors had communicated with pure emotion before they had discovered words. It is an embarrassing thing to do in public, but happily accepted within family limits. We delighted in each other’s joy, until my father saw Tobias. At once, his happiness disappeared, and was replaced by trepidation and concern. He had seen Tobias through some of my Earth photos, but would not expect him in the flesh. I sent him what I hoped was a soothing sense.

<This is Tobias,> I said, holding out my hands in an Earth gesture of peace. My father flinched. He disliked my human tendency to emote with my arms. I let them fall slack on my side.

My father looked at Tobias with his main eyes, then looked at me. He kept his left stalk eye trained on Tobias, curved into a position that meant he was wary and suspicious. His tail was held at the ready, as if he expected Tobias to attack. That frustrated me. <I was sent the joyful news that you were found, Aximili-kala, but I did not expect to see you so… soon.>

Of course. He was shocked at my appearance. I shifted on my hooves. He watched me with a careful expression, but I knew he was suppressing an urge to reprimand me. I calmed myself, then relaxed my tail blade so that it rested nearly atop my back. This is a much more familiar Andalite gesture of peace. I’m not sure why I used my arms first. Perhaps I am regressing into my Earth habits, now that I was in contact with the Animorphs again. <I could not wait. As you know, Tobias is Elfangor’s son, of Loren Theresa Helvig, a human. In lieu of either of them, I will introduce him as a new family member. It is unconventional, but I believe it is fitting. A seed—>

<Aximili-kala,> said my father, sending me a calming feeling. <There is no need for a ritual. The situation is much too atypical.> I froze. Rituals were deeply ingrained in the culture of my people. They were our sunrise and sunset, our prayers and our structure. When there was no ritual to be had, my people would adapt. It was almost heresy for my father to forgo that tradition. He glanced at Tobias with his main eyes, then attempted a smile. He sent a soothing sense to me, and I did not trust it. 

I felt Tobias’s talons dig deeper into my skin. <Yeah, um,> said Tobias. <It is really weird. So. Hi.>

My father looked Tobias over with his right stalk eye, curved in a position that was used for polite interactions with strangers and not for important interactions with family. <So you truly are sentient,> he said.

<Uh,> said Tobias. <Yep.>

I stepped forward. <Tobias was part of the crew sent to rescue me. It is quite a story.>

<I’m sure it is,> said my father. He looked like he wanted to say something else, and was carefully choosing not to do so. <Please, come inside, Aximili,> he said. He said my name, and not Tobias’s. <Let me administer  _ eilashan _ to revive your dulled fur.> He turned, and walked toward the heart of the scoop. I followed dutifully, my main eyes blinking in embarrassment. I am a Prince and nearly four years old, the legal age among Andalites. My father should not be soothing me with  _ eilashan _ . In Earth terms, this is as if my father was styling my hair with homemade ceremonial soaps that I should have started making for myself years ago. Perhaps this is not a perfect analogy.

We arrived in silence at the heart of our scoop. Two Andalites spending time silently is not notable, but Tobias’s complete lack of communication was entirely notable.

<Are you alright?> I asked him privately.

<Yeah. Yeah,> he said, though I got the sense that he was lying. <It’s fine. He seems like he’s, you know, adjusting. I would too, if my kid just randomly showed up with my grandson.>

<Give him time,> I said.

<Yeah. So he’s going to help you with your fur, right? Nice digs, by the way. You always told me your Earth scoop wasn’t anything like a real Andalite home.>

<Of course it was not. Andalites are a civilized species with advanced technology. We do not live in holes in the ground, dug up by morphing underground creatures. Our scoops have large gardens, often meticulously cultivated by former soldiers. The actual ‘scoop’ is much more akin to a human basement, with a retractable roof on top.>

<Yeah,> said Tobias. <Yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.>

<You have said ‘yeah’ six times.>

<Yeah,> said Tobias.

My father brought me to our enclosure, guiding me to where we kept our medicines.

I spoke publicly. <Father brews his own  _ eilashan _ , and his fur gets many compliments. He is quite talented.>

<Thank you, Aximili-kala,> said my father brusquely. 

<I don’t really use soap,> said Tobias. He was speaking privately to me, perhaps to lighten my mood. <I’m more of a water-dirt-and-beak kind of guy.>

I craned my neck to look at Tobias with my main eyes. I had learned how to turn my head around to face my human friends, as even Tobias found it “creepy” to speak to my stalk eyes. I spoke privately. <You can speak to my father, he—>

<Aximili!> interrupted my father, his stalk eyes almost straight up with surprise. He blinked rapidly. <What are you  _ doing _ ?>

I quickly turned my head back around to a proper position. <It is alright,> I said, sharing calm feelings with my father. <It does not hurt when you have practiced enough.>

My father reacted with a sound a human would call a “sigh.” It is something I have a tendency to do, but am far more careful about reigning it in than my other human mannerisms. To make a noise from your respiratory system is exceedingly rude in our society. Inside a private scoop, the rules were loosened, but the fact my father would do such a thing in front of Tobias told me much about his opinion.

<Please, Tobias is your kin!> I said. <He is here, in front of you! You must accept him!>

<Look, I can go,> said Tobias, this time to both my father and me.

My father looked at Tobias with his main eyes, but kept both stalk eyes standing tall. It was the first time he had acknowledged Tobias in a respectful way. <I know your story,> he said. <You have been touched by the Ellimists.>

I looked at him with my main eyes, suddenly suspicious. My father had never addressed the Ellimists before. 

<Um,> said Tobias. <I guess that’s one way to put it.>

Carefully, my father applied  _ eilashan _ to something that amounted to a human ‘brush.’ He focused all four of his eyes on the task, a very rare thing for a military man, even someone as many years retired as my father. <To many Andalites, the Ellimists are foolish folk tales known as The First Andalites. To me, they are not.>

My father began to administer the  _ eliashan _ to my skin. As a child, I had loathed this ritual, finding the constant pulling on my fur to be painful. My father learned to mix his  _ eilashan _ with some mild sedatives to soothe me, and it appears he had continued this practice. I not only felt my fur become cleaner, but I felt my muscles relax, and my head become clearer.

<I have told you how your mother and I met,> he said. <We were schoolmates, and she was much beloved by many in our student group, yet she chose me. It is a nice story, simple and sweet, but it is just that. A story.>

Tobias watched with his small yellow eyes. His feathers stood on end.

<I do not doubt that you are the progeny of my late son,> said my father. <And if you are born of my son, then that must mean you are strong, and brave, and kind.> He sent a wave of bitter regret and sweet love to us. Tobias jerked back from the wave of emotion, emitting a small noise. I had done this with Tobias before, but I do not think he expected openness from my father. I sent him a reassuring wave of my own.

Then, my father closed himself completely. I no longer had a sense of his emotions. I could only hear his tone, which my people typically kept even and calm. It was impossible to know what he was feeling. <I will tell you the real story. I have always thought it was more Forlay’s to tell, but I do not believe she will mind. The telling it is harder on her.>

Even though I was softened by the  _ eilashan _ , I still managed to tense my muscles. Feeling my father close himself off so harshly was disturbing. 

<Your mother did not begin her education with us,> said my father. <She joined our school group in the third season of our second year.>

I knew Tobias would need context. <The human equivalent of eleven years old. It is very, very rare for a child to join a new school group at that age,> I said to him. <Andalites not only tend to hold the same scoop for generations, we also consider it highly inappropriate to disrupt a child’s stability by relocating while they are young. If it is done, it is done only because it is absolutely necessary.>

<Sounds nice,> said Tobias dryly.

My father continued to make long, soothing strokes against my fur. With his emotions completely closed, it felt odd, like a machine was brushing me. I said nothing. At this point, I think the brushing was more soothing to him. <We accepted her easily. She was both intelligent and clever, two things that do not always coincide. As soon as she joined our class, she was at the top of it, yet she wasn’t as aloof as other folk with her genius. She was warm and kind. As we grew older, we fought for her attention, but she only extended any of us academic aid and pleasantries. She seemed to prefer isolation to companionship. An odd thing for an Andalite, but not unheard of.

<While she had been with us for quite some time, no one knew where she had come from. She had parents, of course, but they were assigned to her, and not biological. No one could find a single piece of information about her birth parents. Even children whose are taken from their parents in shame have records. With Forlay, there was nothing. We assumed she had, somehow, been born of two  _ vecols _ , discovered, and brought into society. It was the closest fit, though normally children in that situation are found when they are much younger.

<I was, perhaps, the most enamored with Forlay out of anyone I knew, yet I was the least aggressive of her suitors. I knew I had no chance to win her affections. My features are plain, my mind is slow, and my bravery wavers. I was accepted into the military all the same. A four day before I was to leave for the Academy, I was woken up in the middle of the night by Forlay. It was entirely unexpected. I did not know she knew where I lived.>

My father’s hands began to slow, brushing my fur in long, contemplative strokes. 

<She was very anxious. She begged me for my help. You see, our family has always made air ducts and waterways, and we have access to many building blueprints as a result. Forlay wanted the blueprints to the nearest hanger that housed small fighters. By chance, my family had them. I was young, and she was beautiful. While I knew she was not making sound decisions, I helped her all the same. I insisted on staying by her side.

<We arrived at the hanger. She morphed. I asked where she got access to an Escafil device. She mentioned something about the Mak planet, and I began to piece things together. You see, the military had retreated from the Yeerk invasion of the Mak planet, suddenly and rapidly, with little explanation. That had been around the time Forlay had joined our school group. The two events had seemed very unrelated. Back in the hanger, I started to understand.>

My father’s brushed against me with pressure now, roughly rubbing against the skin underneath my fur like he was scrubbing me. I tensed.

<She used a  _ garian  _ morph to climb through the ducts. Once inside, she opened the doors for me, to allow me to follow her, and I did. She was scared, she wanted company, and again, she was beautiful. I was happy to lend her my presence. In time, we were in a fighter, which Forlay could pilot with surprising ease. She began flying toward somewhere with a sureness. It was clear she knew where she was going, though I did not. I asked where she was taking me. She began to explain, and then I understood in terrible fullness why the military had retreated from Mak.>

I sent my father a wave of reassurance. It seemed like the thing to do. I received nothing in return.

<Forlay had intimate knowledge of the Mak. She had been brought to the planet as a child, the daughter of three biologists who were sent to Mak to study the species and their planet. These biologists grew to love and respect the aliens. One of Forlay’s parents, Shoramith-Maedrid-Castill, realized that the Mak would be perfectly suited to the Aetalen continent.>

<Which is otherwise not habitable by Andalites. We have little use for it,> I said to Tobias.

<Like Antartica, kind of,> said Tobias.

My father blinked, then said, <I shall take your word on it.> His brushing grew more gentle and steady, as if Tobias had interrupted his dark thoughts and brought him back to the reality of his hands. <Needless to say, the harsh Mak climate was hard for Andalites, and we had much difficulty fighting on the ground. The Yeerks used this to their advantage, and we were losing. As the Mak were small in number and not nearly as useful a host as a Hork-Bajir, the military was considering giving up on the planet entirely and diverting resources elsewhere. It was a small loss to Andalites, but a large loss to Forlay’s mothers. They developed a way to smuggle the Mak to Aetalen.>

I took a breath that was sharp and sudden. <That is—that is  _ foolish! _ > I said. My anger was seeping from me, and I did not care. I may be a  _ nothisshorm, _ but I was not naive. <To bring a sentient species on to _ our _ homeworld, no matter how powerless—the ecological implications alone— >

<I know,> said my father softly. <They are no longer there.>

I felt myself relax. <Good,> I said. <In that case, I am glad Aetalen could serve as a temporary home.>

I noticed Tobias had stopped preening his feathers. 

<No, Ax,> Tobias said quietly, his voice full of something distant and sad. 

It sounded not unlike mourning.

That is when I understood.

<When it was found out what Forlay’s mothers had done, they were offered isolation in return for the Mak’s specific location,> said my father. <Forlay’s mothers did not give it to them. They were executed, and Forlay was brought back into society, as she was an innocent child who had played no part in her mothers’ treason. But of course, Forlay was not all that docile. She was clever, and she was passionate. She had grown up with the Mak, and thought of them as equals and friends. Even as young as she was, she had aided her mothers in their smuggling, and she knew everything. She acted ignorant, because she knew if she did not, and if she stood with her mothers, the Mak would be unprotected. She watched her mothers die for an alien race, and she chose to live because of that same love. She had somehow hacked the military’s most secret channels, and spent her isolated days monitoring all information about the Mak. When the military finally found their location, they moved quickly, and Forlay knew she had to move quicker to warn the aliens. In the end, she could not. By the time we arrived, the Aetalen forests were already burning.>

I felt a surge of anger toward my people, an emotion that was so disappointedly common these days that I had far too much practice in processing it. <That was unnecessary,> I said. <It would have been easy to aid them.>

<I agree,> said my father. <We landed our stolen ship before anyone could see us. As soon as we were on the ground, Forlay marched outside, and she began screaming at the air. At first, I thought she had gone insane with grief. Then, I saw them too. A family of four, beautiful and strong, marked with ancient runes burned into their skin. The Ellimists.>

<Of course,> I said quietly.

<Forlay accused them of lying. She claimed the Ellimists had promised Forlay they would protect the Mak. They said the rules had changed. They called her daughter. I knew then, in some distant way that may have been planted by the Ellimists themselves, that Forlay was Their descendant, and that that was a terrible curse.>

Both of my hearts began to beat rapidly in time with each other. They were no longer one Andalite and one human. They were united, both furious and scared. <Oh,> I said. It was all I could say. To learn that one’s bloodline is a thing of gods is not a positive feeling. It is mostly a cold one, and a fearful one. In some ways, it was not a surprise. It had not gone beyond my notice that my life was fantastical and far, far too exciting.

I thought of the smell of rotted fruit, and of a ringing in my ears, and of a harsh black loss of time and memory within me.

My father continued, his emotions still tightly closed. <After that, Forlay was a fraction of herself. I felt protective of her, and she felt attached to me. When I returned from my military service, we married, and we petitioned for a child. Forlay gave birth to Elfangor. We loved him, as we love you, Aximili, with the blind and wild passion of a parent. Then, something happened to Elfangor, and he, too, became a fraction of himself. Forlay asked him what had happened, and asked him about the Ellimists. That was the second time I heard her speak of Them. We only knew this less-than Elfangor for a handful of seasons, and then he was gone, and so was our other son. That was the third time Forlay spoke of the Ellimists.>

My father held out an arm toward Tobias. Tobias fluttered toward him and landed, very carefully, on his wrist. My father brought Tobias up to his main eyes. <You are a strange and foreign little creature, yet I sense pain from you.>

Tobias hesitated, and then said, <Yes.>

And then my father opened up to us with a sudden, rolling flood. We drowned in his feelings, his loss and his sadness, his hesitance and his quiet. He had been emptied from the inside out with rough hands and artless carving. He was a thing of canyons and cliffs and caves, meant for waterfalls and rivers, but they had been stolen from him. He was container for nothing, a cauldron of loss. He lived, but he didn’t. He was here, but he was not.

<Forlay and I cannot allow you into our hearts, Tobias Henry Fangor,> he said. <I cannot hear her speak of the Ellimists a fourth time.>

<I understand,> said Tobias. My father reached up with his other hand, and lightly touched the place under Tobias’s eye, where an Andalite cheekbone would be. I did not need to explain the intimacy of the gesture to him. He turned, and nipped gently at the fur on my father’s fingers, something he used to do to Rachel from time to time. He flew away, and landed back on my shoulder.

My father set down his brush. My fur was soft and tame. I looked at him. <Much happened to me when I was lost,> I said. <And I am not finished with that.>

<Then please go,> he said. <Leave before your mother comes home from work. Do not return to her until you are ready to stay.>

<Of course,> I said, and I left my childhood scoop with my father’s  _ eiliashan _ in my fur, feeling as empty as him.

 

Tobias and I began to head back toward the spaceport. He flew and I ran. It was an odd thing we did, but it was calming.

After a time, we both had to take a break. I leaned against a  _ somelshi _ tree. <Running has been therapeutic,> I said, <But it will take far too long to get back to the spaceport on foot. I will morph soon.>

<Okay,> said Tobias. He landed on the  _ somelshi _ tree. Branches on  _ somelshi _ trees are very high up and I could not see Tobias, but I felt his presence all the same. We sat in silence for a moment, and then Tobias said, <You know, I mean, that was pretty rough. But it was good. Family is kind of weird to me anyway, and I’d rather stay away and let them be happy than stick around and make them miserable. It’s better to be honest about it right away.>

<Perhaps,> I said. I did not have much else to say about the subject.

Tobias laughed a little, a sound that was somewhat forced. <You know, when I was a kid, if you told me I was the son of a cool alien who was also the descendant of a legend I would have been  _ thrilled. _ It’s exactly the sort of thing I used to dream about, except, you know. My dad would have been alive and would have taken me off Earth. Be careful what you wish for, I guess. Now I wish I really was the kid of that fake Alan Fangor.>

He was trying to take my mind off of things and cheer me up. I was not in the mood.

<Maybe,> I said, hoping Tobias would understand that I did not want to talk from my one word replies. Then, I noticed a group of Andalites coming toward us. I straightened up, assuming it was a grazing family from this area. They would recognize Prince Aximili of Earth, and would be excited to speak to me. I had to act as if I had not watched my father reject my  _ shorm _ , who was his grandson, because my family was an obsession of the Ellimists.

<Whoa. Why are there military men all the way out here?>

<They are military?> I asked, focusing my main eyes on the Andalites in the distance.

<I mean, I assume. They have that whole stiff military walk going on.>

<Ah,> I said. <Of course, you have the advantage of your height. I would have noticed first if I were not so far below you.>

<You wish,> said Tobias.

I held my tail in the position of a Prince. I was still visibly stressed, but I was somewhat presentable because of my father, which was a small mercy.

There were four Andalites altogether. One of them stepped forward. <Aximili,> he said. <You are needed at the spaceport.>

I sighed internally. These Andalites were the muscular fighter pilot types that I very much disliked. They always spoke to me in a manner that nearly disregarded my rank because I am physically small. <I have received no official summons,> I said patiently. <I did a proper debriefing back on the  _ Blossom. _ No one has communicated immediate need to me, and I more than deserve time to see my family. If a bored Prince sent you on a mission to fetch me in person for dramatics, please let him know that official channels are far more effective, and I will return as soon as I can.>

An Andalite stepped forward and displayed his tailblade in a threatening position. <Please come with us, Prince Aximili.>

<Ax?> said Tobias.

I did not wonder at who these people were, or what they wanted. Thinking was not helpful in times like these. I whipped my tail, and laid a harsh blow against the Andalite’s head before he could use his blade against me. I felt another Andalite’s tail immobilize mine.

<Do not  fight me,> I said darkly. <I am exhausted and out of practice.>

<We will extend pity if you cooperate,> said the Andalite with his tail locked in mine.

<You misunderstand,> I said. <I am not worried for myself. I am worried I may loose my concentration, and hurt one of you more than I should.>

<Of course,> the Andalite said. <I have seen the Yeerk footage of your battles. When I speak of pity, I am speaking of not doing this.>

He lurched forward, and hit me with a sharp and cold metal device. The world started to fade around me. I had been drugged. I lost consciousness.


	5. Marco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in the end notes.

The Andalites dropped us humans off at this crazy building that looked like a toddler laid the Eiffel Tower down horizontally and then cut out all their favorite shapes. They actually called it a hotel, which inspired Santo to rap “Hotel, motel, UFO inn” and I laughed. You may think I’d be jealous that he thought of it first, but you’d be wrong. I was more than happy to have another comedian on the team. Do you think it’s easy coming up with all these legendary bits rapid fire and under pressure? No! Even Johnny Carson had Ed McMahon.  

They ushered us into what they called the “Human Wing.” I guess this place was designed to host all manner of alien delegates, which explained the lack of uniformity in design. There were only four human-accessible rooms that were not currently used by the Earth embassy. It worked out great, seeing how Tobias had fucked off into the wild red yonder. Ax had broken away to go after him, which I thought was a mistake. Nothing would make Tobias happier than finding a new forest to isolate himself. Purple trees, longer days, and brand new critters to murder! It’d be his version of redecorating.

The Andalites gave us some basic explanations of how things worked, then left to do god-knows-what. I had reached that very specific stage of drinking too much too fast, where I was sober but exhausted, and also mildly nauseous. I wanted to sleep. I _very_ desperately wanted to sleep. But as soon as I was alone in my Andalite hotel room, I knew sleep was not an option.

The debriefing had been too quick. They’d had left us alone too fast. Something was up. Something was wrong.

I splashed some water on my face and wondered if the Andalites had some sort of grass equivalent of a tall glass of Monster that I could chew on. Then I thought about how that would actually taste, and decided not to ever ask. I left my room, and I went to Jake’s room.

I knocked on his door. I immediately knocked again, not giving him a chance to not-answer. I knocked the classic shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits, and then I started knocking out the Batman theme. He appeared right while I was mid knock, my fist up in the air. He gave me a very particular disappointed look only Jake and school teachers are capable of giving.

“Great,” I said, pushing past him and entering his room. “I was just about to switch to Jingle Bells, and that’s really not seasonally appropriate. It’s, like, June on Earth, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” said Jake, closing the door and sitting on the bed. “I lost track.”

I paced the perimeter of the room, running my hand along the walls. “So what do you think of these sweet digs?” I said. I stopped in front a painting of flowers.

“I didn’t get much of a look,” said Jake dryly. “I was pretty much planning on sleeping before seeing the sights. You know. Sleep?”

I stifled a bitter laugh. Seeing the sights my ass. We both knew Jake was going to stay in his hotel room until a ship arrived at his very window and told him to get in and get back to Earth. I tapped my finger against the painting, as if I were making a point. “Honestly, it’s a little disappointing. I’m over here thinking, hey, alien hotel, that’s about to be full of hilarious misunderstandings. Shoes for lampshades, plastic fruit instead of real food, you know, the classics.” I picked up a decorative vase on Jake’s bedside table and turned it around in my hands. “Instead, it looks like they got Crate and Barrel itself to come over and spruce up the place.”

“What’s Crate and Barrel?” asked Jake.

“What? There’s no way. No way you don’t know Crate and Barrel,” I said, setting the vase down and picking up the alarm clock. “It’s a store. Come on, man. There was one at the mall. I know the only pop of color in your house was an occasional dark navy against a sea of beige, but you should at _least_ know Crate and Barrel.” I eyed a clock on the wall. It was pretty ornate. Definitely not from Crate and Barrel. The center of it was a little too shiny. It didn’t quite match the rest of the clock, like the clock makers had to use a piece from a different model and hoped noone would notice.

Jake sighed, then stood up. “Hey, man, let’s get out of here. Let’s go see if the Andalites have coffee anywhere, okay? Or at least get you some water.”

“Coffee schmoffee,” I said, walking up to the clock. “Water schmater. Does this look expensive to you?” I pulled it off the wall.

Jake lunged toward me. “Don’t mess with this stuff, we don’t want to piss off the Anda—”

“Oops!” I said, letting the clock slip from my hand. Before Jake could react, I stomped on it with all the might my well toned but thin little body had.

“What the hell are you _doing!_ ” said Jake as I leaned down, fishing through the shards to find what I needed. Once I had it, I came back up, and showed it to Jake.

“Camera hidden in the clock,” I said, lowering my voice to nearly a whisper. “Clever, but amateur. Everything else in this room was _clearly_ mass produced, but the clock looked hand crafted. You can always depend on the Andalites to be the exact right amount of suspicious and paranoid while maintaining a helpful assumption that every non-Andalite species is stupid. We probably have about ten minutes before some random guy shows up, effusing about your great leadership and giving you some gift basket full of grass and arrogance that just happens to have another camera in it.”

Jake sat back down on his bed, running his hands down his face. He looked back up at me. “It’s shitty, but it’s probably just general security. They have no reason to spy on us, and even if they think they do, I personally had no plans to act suspiciously. I’m telling you, you should get some sleep.”

“We can sleep when we’re back on the _Rachel_ ,” I said. “They took our ship somewhere weird. I want to know why.”

Jake hesitated, like he wasn’t sure if he should say something, and then he sighed. “You can talk slower and lower your voice if you want, Marco, but you’re still drunk,” he said flatly.

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t drink that much. I’m fine now.”

Jake looked at me incredulously. “You know, we could have used you back there. You—”

I leaned against the desk in Jake’s room and looked down. When I looked back up, I was wearing a new face. Jake jumped when he saw, then frowned.

“Who is that?” he said, his tone way more accusing than it needed to be. I sighed.

“Bits and pieces of various people, all who I acquired with permission, alright? People love it when you turn into them, it’s a fun party trick. I call this guy Marcel,” I said, keeping my voice light. I’ve been acquired without consent, and it’s not a great feeling. I did it a few times during the war, but even I knew war time morality wasn’t the same as peace time. The fact that Jake looked at me with such suspicion was more than a little hurtful, like he thought I was some morally bankrupt pretty boy running through Hollywood and doing whatever I wanted without thought for consequence. I mean, I was, but I had _limits._

I pushed myself off of the desk. “Look, it doesn’t matter where I got this body, all that matters is that this body is fresh and sober.” I put a finger on my nose and carefully walked forward, placing one foot in front of the other. When I got to the end of the room, I spun around and threw my arms out. “Ta-dah!” I said.

Quickly, I forced myself to sort through the events of the last few hours. I’m not above admitting one of my suspicions was wrong, providing I could do so very quickly and then leave immediately. Okay, maybe I felt significantly clearer after morphing, and maybe I felt like shit for not spinning a better lie about Menderash’s human form, and maybe I didn’t need to sing _My Heart Will Go On_ to Santo while we travelled in the Andalite taxi, but I _definitely_ still felt there was something very suspicious about the Andalites taking the _Rachel_ and very specifically _only_ the _Rachel_ to some unknown area.

“I still think things are fucked,” I said, staring directly at Jake, and using my most serious of voices.

Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Morph back, please. It’s creepy watching all your mannerisms in a stranger.”

“You can just admit you miss my charming and beautiful face,” I said, shrinking down into my real self. I leaned against the wall, mostly to keep my ears open to the clip-clopping of Andalite hooves cheerfully running to Jake’s room with a fresh bouquet of electronic bugs. “Let’s get out of here. Go see a new planet, go find our ship, and figure out why the damn aliens took it in the first place.”

Jake dropped his hand. He looked down at the floor, clearly thinking deeply about something. Then, he looked back up at me, and spoke very slowly and gently, like I was some kind of rebellious child who wouldn’t eat his vegetables. “I really don’t think this means what you think it means. The ship is incredibly damaged, and not up to fleet standards. They’re probably just taking it to a junkyard. If you’re concerned about them not knowing our belongings from leftover Yeerk stuff, then I can talk to someone about it, okay? I know a couple of the Andalite higher-ups, and—”

“I know more Andalites than you, because I leave my fucking house,” I said. I immediately regretted saying it, but it was too late. Jake’s expression barely changed, anyway. “If they were taking it to a junkyard, they would have just said that. Plainly. They didn’t. They said ‘It’s of no concern to you what we do with our ships.’ They’re hiding something.”

“Andalites are like that, though. They make everything sound more complex and shady than it is. Hey, whenever you do an impression of an Andalite, you use a British accent. It makes no sense. None of them have British accents,” said Jake. “Why do you do that?”

I blinked at Jake. “Are you really trying to distract me?” I said. “With _that?_ This is important.”

Jake looked at me and sighed again. I was getting dangerously near nuclear level of pissed-right-the-fuck-off, touching the place where even on a set I couldn’t swallow my anger. He pushed some hair out of his eyes. It’d gotten shaggy on the _Rachel,_ like all our hair had, and it was starting to get too curly and unruly. He would have looked cute if he wasn’t looking at me like I was his idiot teenaged son. He pressed his lips together, considering something, and then he looked back up at me. “Come on, man. You know you have a history of crying wolf.”

I went cold.

“This isn’t like that,” I said, my expression hard and flat.

Jake held his hands out, preemptively trying to soothe me. “Just sleep on it, okay? Go to sleep and then we’ll talk about in the—” Jake paused and looked out of the giant Andalite window. “Whatever time it might be outside when we wake up.”

I almost laughed. “ _You_ can sleep,” I hissed. “You’re so good at it. It’s all you ever do these days.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry about that.”

I balled up my fists. “There you go again, rolling over and exposing your belly. Fuck you, Jake. You do that to get me off your back, not because you give a flying fuck about how your bullshit effects the rest of us.”

Jake took a slow, deep breath, which I knew meant he was going to say something. I stepped forward, getting into his face.

“This? This mission? This was your chance to wake up,” I said, my voice coming out low and dangerous. “And you did. You were fucking _brilliant_ , making the call to ram the Blade Ship, dictating our positions, calling Tobias and me out for being lazy morphers. For about ten minutes there, you were back, and then it got a _little_ bit hard and you’re right back to sleeping again.”

Jake looked up at me, his eyes going hazy and mournful like they always were when he was at Rachel’s grave. “Menderash—”

“Is fucking alive!” I shouted. “We’re all alive! We have Ax!”

“Not because of anything we did,” said Jake, distant and dead. “But because The One let us.”

“And you immediately became his little lap dog,” I hissed. “Are you really going to chase after him? Just you, alone, in some shitty borrowed shuttle from the Andalites, against a fucking _God_?”

“Yes,” said Jake, looking both at me and past me.

“You know that’s suicide,” I said darkly.

Jake said nothing. He just sat there, staring off into the distance, expressionless and unmoving. I could still smell the stale nicotine on his clothes.

We sat in stalled silence; me charged with purpose, him stalled with emptiness. Suddenly, at once, we both looked at the door, which had started gently projecting colors.

“That’s probably some kind of Andalite knock,” I muttered. Jake got up and opened the door.

Sure enough, there was an Andalite, holding some kind of art piece I didn’t care enough about to study. I stormed past the gift-giver, forcing Jake to deal with them on his own.

  


So Bird-Boy had fucked off into the poetic maroon sky, Ax had gone chasing after him like Julia Roberts in any movie, and Jake wanted to sit in his own room and sulk. I knew something was suspicious, and if no one else was going to care enough to figure it out, then I’d do it on my own. It was appropriate, after all. Here I was, mistakenly thinking some time together on a ship was going to bring the band back together. I guess you gotta let some things just be of their time, you know? Cadbury Eggs, candy canes, strong emotional bonds forged during war; apparently, it’s all the same concept. It’s no fun if you do it out of season!

I went back to my room. Jake was maybe onto something with all his sleep talk, but I knew it’d be completely useless. The next best thing was always a shower. Go stand under some water, pour a bunch of lavender-scented goop over your body, walk out, and it’s almost like a full night’s sleep, if a full night’s sleep left you feeling exactly as exhausted, but wet.

Still, it was a change of pace. Stepping underneath a stream of hot water always reset my brain. Feeling a mix of terror, sadness, and rage at your former brilliant general and even more former best friend? Get the water as hot as you can stand it, burn off those feelings, and step out with a brand new set of emotions.

It worked. I was pumped. I was ready. I was on to something, and I was going to figure it out, with or without my “friends.”

I knew what I had to do first. I had to get information. How was I going to get information? Back in the day, I’d morph a fly and wait. That wasn’t going to work. Flies are considerably less subtle on an alien planet. Less “on the wall” and more “oh god, it’s a tiny but terrifying mystery monster, let’s destroy it immediately.” Fortunately, I had another trick up my sleeve. Something with far more stealth and finesse than mere morphing.

I could flirt.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking. But Marco, these are Andalites! You can’t flirt with an Andalite! They can’t appreciate your angelic hair, perfectly sculpted facial features, or your soulful but sensitive eyes! What shall you do? Cover yourself in some blue feather boas and hope for the best? To which I say: watch a master at work, ye of little faith.

I went over to the front desk button and pushed it with a flourish. Then, I sat on my bed and waited.

The lights on the door started to go off. A few seconds later, the same Andalite that had given Jake the replacement camera waltzed into my room. This time, I paid a lot more attention to them.

I knew a thing or two about Andalites. When it’s 3 AM, you’re avoiding nightmares, and the only other intelligent life form to communicate with is an alien creature who didn’t need to sleep much anyway, you start having some interesting conversations. I asked him, once, if chick Andalites had tits. This lead to a ton of details about lady Andalites, all of which were actually pretty interesting, but do _not_ tell Ax I said that. I found out that the Andalite equivalent to a giant pair of knockers is a tiny, delicate tail blade. This chick’s blade was so small, her tail almost looked like it ended in pure fur. Most Andalites are blue, but somewhere around 90% of the ladies were various shades of purple, and the ones that were blue were all insecure about it. This Andalite was definitely purple, and, like, a _good_ purple. There wasn’t a drop of blue about her. She was Prince in the _When Doves Cry_ music video purple. That had to make her pretty hot. Plus, her hooves were so shiny I could see the room’s colors reflected in blurry splotches. For all I knew, that was some kind of Andalite acne, but I’d put down good money on it being a fashion statement. I was clearly talking to the Andalite equivalent of a girl named Samantha who works the front desk at a DoubleTree and spends all her extra money at MAC. I could work with that.

I flashed her a grin. “Okay, I have a couple of questions, but first off? I really want to let you know, you are the prettiest damn Andalite I have ever seen. I mean, _wow._ ”

She blinked a few times, which I knew was an Andalite sign of embarrassment. A blush, basically. The second I figured that out, I made it a point to make Ax blink as much as possible, seeing how he actively wrecked what little social life I had whenever we walked next to some fries. <It is rare to find a human who can appreciate Andalite beauty,> she said.

Ah. So she was as full of herself as she was gorgeous, a combo with which I, stunning but humble, am entirely unfamiliar.

“That’s just because we only ever see the big military guys,” I said. “They’re stuffy and all have patchy fur. You? You’re all put together. Sleek. Small,” I said, taking a small risk. I wasn’t sure if Andalite beauty standards ran the way of delicate and dainty, but if the tail blade thing was any indication, then I was on the right path. She blinked but her body language remained the same, which I took to be a good sign. I pushed it even further. “I’ve never seen hooves so beautifully polished before.” Really, really hoping mirror-hooves were a beauty thing and not a sign of an ugly and deathly disease.

<Thank you,> she said. I was on a roll. <Perhaps the Animorphs are as extraordinary as Prince Aximili says.>

“Extraordinary?” I said. “He says that about us?”

<Yes,> said the Andalite. <Extraordinary by human standards.>

“So kind,” I said, muttering under my breath. The Andalite twitched her tail.

<Could you repeat that? I sometimes have difficulty hearing humans,> she said.

“I said what’s your name,” I said, louder this time.

<Ah,> she said. <I am Longrial-Banatul-Fameen.>

“So what does a bored tourist do on this planet, Longrial?” I said, flashing her another one of my trademark smiles. “What do you got, a pool? Hot air balloon rides? Group outings where you just quietly contemplate the beauty of grass?”

<Ah,> she said. <You wish to experience the awe of _havayshord_? >

“Wait, is that the grass thing?”

<Yes.>

“Oh god. No, not at all. I was kind of thinking something more—social. Talky-talky. Back and forth.” Somewhere where I could listen in on conversations, maybe pick up something about the old Yeerk ship the Animorphs brought in and what the plans for it were. Somewhere where I could eavesdrop. Somewhere with human morphs. “You guys have a Cinnabon here, right? Is it anywhere nearby, or is it how my dad’s family all seem to think we go on day trips to the Golden Gate Bridge just because we live in California?”

<What?>

“Where’s the Cinnabon? I’d like to dine at this fine, upscale establishment.”

She looked at me with her giant yet vapid and expressionless eyes. <But you are human. You have enjoyed cinnamon buns many times.>

“Oh, sure,” I said, though in all honesty I hadn’t touched the damn things in years. I liked them way back when, but there’s only so many times you can watch a beautiful young man shove glaze and dough down his throat before you’re permanently turned off. So let it be a testament to my award-winning acting skills that my face showed zero disgust when I said, “But I haven’t had an _alien_ cinnamon bun, now, have I?”

She shifted her weight. <There are waiting lists. One does not get to experience a cinnamon bun on a whim.>

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you jealous? Why? It’s not like you can try them. Do the give morphing tech to concierges now?”

<Of course not,> she said. Her tail blade suddenly went taut. I suppressed a grin.

Bingo.

Being on Andalite is kind of a surreal experience, and not because it was an alien planet. That part was old news. Between glitching through Z-space to the water dungeon on Leera, teleporting to Iskoort LegoLand, and the _Magic School Bus_ ride to the Hork Bajir planet, I’d been galaxy-hopping even _before_ we got on the _Rachel._ Yawn. You got on the planet, you walked around for a while, you went “Wow, the trees are different colors!”, and then you got over it and went home.

What was _actually_ crazy was watching the other Andalites. It reminded me of the one time mom, dad, and I managed to go to Puerto Rico. I remember being really shocked by the people. Not because they were different or anything, but because they were really, really familiar. A lot of what I thought of as my mom’s own habits and mannerisms were actually part of a bigger culture. I was getting that sense, only this time I was seeing a lot of Ax things getting reflected in total Andalite strangers.

If this were Ax, that tense tail would be a sure sign he was hiding something. He always did that when I caught him in a lie. In Ax’s case, it was normally something like he _totally_ understood what he was reading when he was knee-deep in FBI emails, or that he and Tobias definitely _weren’t_ working together to cheat at Monopoly with thought-speak. With my girl here, it meant she definitely, absolutely, undeniably could morph, and that she really wanted a damn Cinnabon.

I leaned against the wall. “Look, Longrial— can I call you Longrial?”

<I have no idea what else you would call me.>

“Ally, probably.”

<What?>

“Ally,” I said, “I know a thing or two about waitlists. The first thing I know is that they don’t apply to me. The second thing I know is that, to most events, there is typically a plus one.”

She turned away from me, and pulled up some kind of holographic computer. I raised an eyebrow. Menderash had a laptop implanted in his head, too, but he had never made it visible and holographic before. He preferred to just suddenly glaze over like he had exited his own brain, like ex-hosts did when they forgot they could move their own body around. Either Longrial had some sort of bonus feature that made her brain-laptop visible to comfort humans, or Menderash just did _not_ care how much he disturbed us.  <I will send word to Cinnabon of your interest. Beyond that, I am not concerned with whom you attend.>

I pushed myself off the wall. “But what if it was you?” I said.

<I do not have the ability to morph human,> she said patiently. <That would be very illegal, nearly treason.>

“Sure,” I said. I waited a moment.

“Nice clock,” I said.

She turned a stalk eye toward me, very slowly, very deliberately.

<Of course,> she said slowly. <I think so, too.>

Her holographic computer disappeared in a blink. She turned her whole body, allowing her to look at me with her main eyes. <I have sent word to the Cinnabon of your interest. In the meantime, we can provide meals to sate human needs. We have bars that provide the necessary human nutrition, and a few ‘snacks’, as it were, of both sweet and savory nature. Would you like to peruse the wares?>

“I honestly would,” I said. We’d just done a whole wink-wink, nudge-nudge thing, but a part of me was hoping she really _was_ going to take me to some sort of alien grocery store. After six months of nutritional bars, I could really go to town on some stale Ritz crackers.

 

She led me down the hallway. We walked past Jake’s room and, for a minute, I thought about knocking on his door and trying to drag him out again. The moment passed. Let him sulk.

A wall sort of rippled in front of us. I’m pretty used to weird shit happening, so it’s not like I stopped in my tracks in wonder and awe, but I did raise my eyebrows. “What’s that about?” I asked.

<Well,> she said, in a tone of voice that I knew from Ax meant a whole waterfall of condescending bullshit was about to come my way, <You cannot possibly expect us to meticulously build various wings of our alien embassy with tangible material. We need to quickly expand or condense wings, depending on the arrivals of alien guests. Much of this building is made up of—well, we’ll call it holographic material, as your primitive human ways can no—>

“Yep, holograms can act like dense physical material, I get it,” I said. “Animorph, remember? I’m not Joseph F. Politician, here to take in the glory of alien tech. I also know that even the most powerful holographic tech can glitch. Are you trying to tell me you shove your important visitors into a building made out of bleeps and bloops?”

<It is perfectly safe,> said Ally, as haughtily as possible.

“Do buildings that house real Andalites and not aliens use actual walls?” I asked.

She hesitated. <There are often holographic illusions projected onto our structures,> she said, as if that made anything better.

“Yeah, that doesn’t really ease my concern,” I said. “So the Earth embassy guys are just hanging out in what amounts to _Tron_ world?”

<Come,> she said quickly, and she walked through the rippling wall, which is definitely _not_ the way to warm Sprite and Little Debbie snacks. I was a little sad, but I followed her all the same.

This hotel was a no expenses spared, pan-alien _experience_ and when you walked beyond the holograms and paid attention to the man behind the curtain, things got _weird_.

It was sort of like walking through those underground aquariums, where some rooms are dedicated to fresh water, some salt water, some ponds or whatever. Each room has slightly different fish in them, and they’re always lit and decorated with different colors and plants. It’s meant to make you feel like you’re walking into completely different waterscapes, but you’re not, you’re just walking underneath a giant mall the midwest built in a desperate plea for tourism and you have to pee. This was kind of like that, in that it was a long hallway with windows that looked into each alien wing. But instead of slightly different lighting, you were getting entirely different atmospheres. I assumed it was a two way mirror situation. I could see into all the other alien worlds, but they couldn’t see me.

One long stretch of rooms was so dark it hurt my eye to look at it. Another wing somehow looked like a snowscape, only I could feel heat coming off of the wall. One wing was full of things I could only assume were furniture and appliances, but they were _huge._ It was wild and cool and deeply unsettling.

I followed Ally in silence, too busy taking in all the weird shit around me to be my regular, hilarious self. Eventually, she walked through a wall into some sort of Alice In Wonderland meets Wizard of Oz meets Heavy Metal drug trip planet. I hesitated, then followed. I was already in pretty deep. Might as well wander straight down the actual rabbit hole.

The air inside was warm and dry and _thin._ Way thinner than the Andalite atmosphere, which was already pretty rough. I sat down, involuntarily bringing a hand to my chest like a southern lady with the vapors. “Is this going to take long?” I asked, trying hard not to freak out. I didn’t have a lot of experience with my lungs refusing to fill up all the way outside of a panic attack, which at _least_ provided context, but I was very quickly finding that I hated it _a lot_. When I was back on Earth, I was going to thank my mom for saving me from dad’s asthma gene, and also send ol’ Peter a care package of chocolate and inhalers.

Ally said nothing. As I desperately tried to keep myself from running out of the atmosphere and screaming, she started morphing. I may have _seem_ surprised, seeing how I was gasping for air, but I assure you that I was not.

Her human morph was as breathtakingly gorgeous as every other Andalite’s human morph. She was full Angelina Jolie lips, smooth Beyonce skin, and round Claire Dane eyes. She was also naked as the day she was born—well, acquired—and she had _great_ tits. I mean, really top tier. Not too big, not too small, and perfectly perky. If I die of asphyxiation, as least these tits will have been the last tits I saw. A fitting end.

She tossed back her gorgeous curly chestnut hair and looked at me. “You will be fine for at least ten more minutes. This atmosphere is uncomfortable, even for Andalites, and it is rarely used. We only have a passing relationship with the _Ssstram_ , which is why, in order to save energy, the Hospitality Guild has put surveillance of this wing at a minimum.”

“What is _minimum_ surveillance?” I asked.

“Surveillance designed to pick up thought-speak, both public and private,” said Ally. “It is more expensive to record audible noise, and thus, this wing will only ever pick up thought-speak. We are safe here as long as we speak audibly.”

“Great! We can plot all the evil deeds we want, and then our lungs will collapse!” I said.

“I plot no evil,” said Ally. “I simply support a world where all tech is available to all the People, and not just who the Electorate deems worthy.”

I coughed, the dryness of this atmosphere really getting to me. This place was such a luxury. “Great,” I squeaked out. “So you’re a part of some kind of Andalite revolutionary group.”

“Not quite,” she said. “Do you not know the details of our movement?”

“What movement?” I asked.

“I assumed from your inquiries that you knew of my ability to morph, and how I received this gift. It is my understanding that visiting humans whisper of our movement among each other, with intent to visit one of our festivals. Do you not seek _Voktra_?”

I coughed again. “ _Vok-_ what? Fuck Ta? Did you just say Fuck Town?”

“No,” she said patiently. “I said _Voktra_. Would you like to know more?”

“I literally want to know _everything_ about Fuck Town,” I said.

So she explained and then my time on Andalite got a _hell_ of a lot more exciting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for a conversation about suicide and suicidal intention


	6. Jake

After Marco left, I laid down on my bed. I didn’t close my eyes. I couldn’t. His voice fell dead on my ears, the memory of them flat and pressing. I felt his words tease my lips, wanting to be mouthed, wanting to have shape.

_ For about ten minutes there, you were back. _

_ You can sleep. It’s all you ever do these days. _

_ You know that’s suicide. _

The hotel room whirled with electronic hums. It was a thin sound, like breath frosting a cold mirror. It was a sort of music. It gave me some context, some small sense of place. 

I closed my eyes. I slept.

 

I woke up slowly, deliberate and measured, like brushing wet dirt off a buried thing. The light outside was different. It was a blood red, a meat red, a gut red. I fell back into the electronic-noise of the room, letting it lay heavy on me, soothing my brain to a place between sleep and awake.

_ You know that’s suicide. _

I closed my eyes. I did not sleep.

 

In time, I stirred, because my body was aching and stiff. I twisted myself into sitting, and sitting made me feel disconnected and strange. I was not a creature that sat. I was a collection of household objects playacting at a human body. I was paper towel legs and dryer sheet hair. I was created, a copy and a symbol, molded and sculpted by hands that weren’t my own. I could not sit, because strung together objects were not capable of shape.

I laid back down.

_ You know that’s suicide. _

I closed my eyes.

 

I woke up, I washed my face, and I acted like a person. It’s slow work, pretending at a soul, but it can be done with practice and time.

 

\---

 

Eventually, I was called to debrief with the Andalite military. An Andalite name Eroselfus took me to a giant domed building that looked like all the other giant domed buildings on this planet. I don’t remember much about what they asked or what I said. None of it seemed important. I had set out to save Ax, and I had done it, all at the mercy of a being too powerful for words. I told them about my plan to chase The One, and asked for a small but powerful ship. They seemed willing to work with me, though they were concerned. That was fine. Let them worry. I didn’t care about their concern. I knew what was right. My last ditch attempt at  _ doing _ hadn’t worked, and I was tired. I wanted to do one good thing. I could trap The One. I could let him chase me, then lead him somewhere he couldn’t get out. I didn’t know how or why or where, but an idea would have to come. I wanted to do one more big, useful, life saving thing—but this time, only I would carry the risk, and only I would suffer the mistakes.

An Andalite said something to me about understanding honor, but imploring me to reconsider. I don’t think they really cared. It was all bureaucracy. They were a practical people, and if I could handle The One with a sacrifice, well, what was one small human? It only made sense to let me try it on my own, then go from there.

<When would you like to leave?> an Andalite said.

“As soon as possible,” I said.

There was a pause. <As you will,> said the Andalite. <We will leave tomorrow—ah, in two more of your days.>

“Isn’t there anything earlier?” I asked.

Another pause. <Perhaps,> he said, looking me up and down with a right stalk eye. <Would you not like time to say goodbye before your trip?>

That’s what they called it. A trip. As if I was simply going to Malibu for the weekend, to suntan on a beach and drink beer. A trip.

I forced a smile. “Perhaps,” I said, only to not seem eager. I thought for a moment, and then I said, “May I see Todd Johnson?”

The Andalite hesitated, then he said, <Of course,> very serenely. He lead me down a hallway, then into an elevator. 

We emerged into what I assumed was a medical facility, but I only assumed that because we were visiting Menderash. Nothing else about the place screamed hospital to me. The Andalites were aliens, after all. They weren’t going to be wearing scrubs or lab coats.

Instead of having a closed building full of hallways and private rooms, everything was wide open. There were plants everywhere. I could see through the walls and into the red sky.

“Are we on the roof?” I asked.

<No,> said Eroselfus. <The top floor is reserved for transportation. The sky you see is an illusion, meant to aid ailing Andalites. Please, follow me.>

As we walked through the Andalite hospital, I realized it was actually pretty private. There were “rooms” of a sort, but they were marked off with vines and plants rather than walls. We eventually arrived at a small alcove. Menderash was lying straight on the floor, like a toy that someone forgot to put back in place. I guess it made sense that the Andalites didn’t have any human beds lying around, but the sight still depressed me. He was breathing in slowly, deliberately, but not labored. I lurched forward, intending to kneel next to him, but Eroselfus said, <Please do not disturb him.>

I straightened my body. I wasn’t always the biggest fan of Andalites, but I’d happily admit they had way better medical tech that humans. I’d trust them. If the Andalites told me not to get close to Menderash, I wouldn’t get close to Menderash.

He was naked, which was more than a little uncomfortable for me. I skimmed over his private parts and focused on the rest of him. He was cut and bruised, yes, but he didn’t look sallow or unhealthy. The Andalites had done a great job healing him. For a moment, just a moment, just one brief and wild moment, I thought they might have enough tech to grow back his arm. I knew Andalites hated disabled people, and I knew that they wouldn’t prioritize research for prosthetics or limb regrowth. Still. Perhaps I hadn’t understood the whole thing with Mertil fully. Perhaps Ax just came from the Andalite version of the rural south and had outdated views on  _ vecols. _ Perhaps attitudes had recently changed. Perhaps—

But no. My eyes flicked to his right arm, and it was as we had left it; cut just above the elbow. At least it was clean and had healed well. I swallowed hard, forcing down an emotional swell that was somewhere between despair and habit. 

I realized I was letting out a held breath. “Oh,” I said.

<Oh?> repeated the Andalite.

I stepped forward again. “May we have some privacy?” I asked.

Eroselfus hesitated. <No,> he said. 

I blinked in surprise. I wasn’t Marco, laughing in the face of limitations and boundaries and pushing past them regardless of permission, but that didn’t mean I expected to hear ‘no’ in this particular situation. “I’m sorry?” I found myself asking.

<He is still unwell,> said Eroselfus, his tone much gentler this time. <He is too addled for conversation.>

I pressed my lips together. “I don’t need to converse with him,” I said. “I would just like a moment alone.”

<That does not make sense,> said Eroselfus. <He is unconscious.>

I knew Andalite culture was based on elaborate and spiritual rituals, so it was very weird that an Andalite wouldn’t comprehend the peace someone might find in spending time alone with an unresponsive body. 

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Could something be arranged before I go, then?”

Eroselfus hesitated again. <It is unlikely,> he said. <Please, follow me. I wish to show you shuttle models available for a comfortable trip.>

I nodded, shoving my hands in my pockets. Eroselfus moved away from me. I listened to him walk away as I stared at Menderash.

<Honorary General Jacob Isaiah Berenson,> said Eroselfus. <We must leave.>

I sighed. “Just Jake, please,” I muttered, knowing from years of experience that it would have no effect. I turned to face my guide with the intention of arguing further, but something made me stop. The Andalite’s stalk eyes were making rapid movements, as if he were stressed and fidgeting. The energy of it reminded me of a restless leg. His stalk eyes hadn’t been moving that quickly before.

I heard Marco’s voice again, but not like I heard it before. This time, I heard him say,  _ “They’re hiding something.” _

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling the familiar tension headache that always appeared when I couldn’t figure out a clean and clear solution.

I had good reason to doubt Marco’s suspicions. Here’s the thing about Marco: when he’s bored, he’s paranoid. That’s why I knew he needed the _ Rachel _ as much as I did. 

It wasn’t always so bad. At first, just after the war, there had only been a few incidents, which was to be expected. Even Cassie had her struggles in those days. I started getting strange phone calls from Marco where he’d be rambling and disconnected. He’d warn me about some imagined threat and would tell me that it was coming for me next. He’d detail out some complex plan that was impossible to follow, then suddenly hang up. 

Most of it came down to him being a young kid who had access to every vice possible. He’d come down from whatever he was on and call me the next morning with apologies. Once he learned how to handle himself, the phone calls pretty much stopped.

Then, things in the media started to calm down. Alien life was accepted, people were adapting to all the new technology, and Yeerk hysteria had quited. Marco went from being an important public figure who held the world’s hand through the discovery of alien lifeforms to being, well, just an actor. Marco started letting his public image slip. At first, it was a leak there, a photo here, but it slowly escalated into real scandals. When the scandals got more and more salacious in nature, I got more and more of those rambling voice mails. 

When Marco wasn’t stimulated, his trauma caught up to him. When Marco had to face his trauma head on, he went into overdrive. Once he got like that, Marco would suddenly become obsessed with solving an imaginary puzzle that had never existed in the first place.

That’s what he was doing with his theories about the _ Rachel. _ There was nothing suspicious about the Andalites taking our broken Yeerk ship away from the rest of the fleet. That was just Marco’s version of my shutting down. I recognized that. He didn’t.

It was my fault he got like that. During war time, I needed someone paranoid. I encouraged him, over and over again, because his suspicious mind saw things that the rest of us didn’t _. _ Without me, Marco might have been the kind of guy who went on about government conspiracies after a few beers and that would be it. Because of what I asked of him, Marco’s suspicious nature had morphed into something else entirely.

Each and every one of his manic voicemails was my fault. If I hadn’t teased more and more paranoia from him, maybe he wouldn’t have needed the  _ Rachel. _ Maybe he could be with Cassie right now, safe and warm inside his own home. I had only ever used Cassie for her kindness, after all. With everyone else, I found their darkness and desperation, and I guzzled it down and asked for more.

I owed Marco’s suspicions more than a little consideration.

I watched Eroselfus’s stalk eyes get all the more twitchy.

No, I still didn’t think Marco was right about the _ Rachel, _ but there  _ was _ something off about the way this Andalite was acting. I didn’t like how Menderash was eerily still. I thought quickly.

“I’m ready to go,” I said. “But first, is there a private place where I can, uh… relieve myself?”

The Andalite looked at me with his main eyes. <Did you not relieve yourself back in the alien residency?>

I held out my arms helplessly. “Well, you know. Humans.”

<This is not an aspect of humanity with which I have wished to familiarize myself. I will take you to a waste receptacle.>

_ Good _ , I thought. The less this Andalite knew about how long it would take a human to do his business, the better.

“Nearest one, please,” I said. “It’s an emergency.”

The Andalite’s stalk eyes started whirring around. <This is a matter of life or death?> he asked, shocked.

“Uh — yep,” I said. “So chop chop.” I winced. ‘Chop chop’ is lame, even for me.

Either way, the Andalite lead me to some sort of weird looking telephone booth and gestured for me to step inside. I did, moving very, very carefully.

I immediately started morphing. There was no way I could hang out in here with a nose. The Andalites may act like their shit doesn’t stink but believe me, that is  _ not _ true.

Within a few minutes, I was a roach.

  
  


The roach was never that great at hearing or seeing, but smell? Smell it could do. And boy, were there a lot of smells. New smells. Smells that weren’t in the roach brain’s index of smells. Let me tell you, the roach was  _ freaking out _ . It knew what smells it needed to survive, and it knew it was finding absolutely  _ none _ of these things on Andalite. It was somewhat soothed by the contents of the Andalite bathroom, but it still wasn’t quite right. It didn’t help that the Andalites seemed to prefer shitting in searingly bright light.

The roach was so upset that it took almost a minute before I could wrestle its instincts into submission. As soon as I was in complete control, I motored out of the bathroom, trying desperately to make up for lost time. The room Menderash was in was pretty closeby. If the Andalites weren’t lying to me, I’d have plenty of time to check on Menderash and get back to the bathroom before my guide started to ask questions. If I found Menderash and found something wrong, well. I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

While the roach’s brain went haywire, I sorted through all the unfamiliar smells and focused on the one that was familiar. A roach could smell a human. Not as well as a wolf or even a tiger, but when there was exactly one human in the whole hospital, the roach got the job done. The smell of human was faint— _ very _ faint—but I zeroed in on it, and went toward the source.

I followed it for a really, really long time.

I followed it for way longer than it would take my roach-self to arrive at where Menderash was  _ supposed _ to be.

When I got close enough to the human smell to sense a vague outline of Menderash’s form, I demorphed. 

I was definitely not in the same alcove the guide had brought me to. The plants in this alcove were all crumblings leaves and dead, brown vines.

Lately, I’ve sort of just let things happen around me. I don’t have a lot of opinions. I barely register my own surroundings most days. Even when assassination attempts were made against me and I had to morph to save my life, I felt little more than a vague sense of habitual self-preservation. Now, stuck on this alien planet, following a scent that took me far away from the Menderash I had seen with my own two eyes, I actually felt my heart start to race.

If Menderash was here, who or what had been lying on the ground in the other hospital room? It couldn’t have been a morph, otherwise Menderash’s arm would be whole. My guess was hologram. It explained why I wasn’t allowed to spend any time alone with him.

The real Menderash was held up in some sort of sling, presumably something that would otherwise keep a weak Andalite upright. He was still in the t-shirt and sweatpants Santorelli had dressed him in back on the _ Rachel _ , which came from Santorelli’s own wardrobe, and Menderash looked all the more frail for being in clothes that were too large for him. He’d been weaved through the sling awkwardly, a flesh hammock lazily draped over two points and sagging at uncomfortable angles. His head wasn’t supported, and it dripped down like a raindrop. His mouth was open and his eyes were glassy. He slowly turned his blood-heavy head and looked at me with red rimmed eyes.

“Why have you come,” he said, in a voice that was low and hoarse and dry. “Even a human should not have to speak to a  _ vecol nothlit. _ ”

“That’s my choice,” I said firmly. I walked toward him, studying the sling and the cables that kept him suspended. “I’m going to get you down, and then we’ll talk to the people at the Earth embassy. Okay?”

“Do not,” said Menderash. He kept his voice at a whisper. I didn’t know if it was in order to not disturb the rest of the hospital, or because couldn’t talk any louder. “My fate is sealed. They will keep me here until I am healed enough to survive on my own, then I will be sent to the outskirts to live in isolation.”

“As a human?” I said. “That doesn’t sound safe. What will you eat?”

Menderash turned his face back toward the ceiling-sky, and he said nothing.

I sighed. They clearly hadn’t bought the whole ‘Todd Johnson’ thing, and with the Andalites’ extreme cultural hatred for  _ vecols _ , it made sense that they would try and whisk Menderash away without me knowing. This was an Andalite deal, not a human one, and they wouldn’t want me and the other Animorphs interfering. Unfortunately for them, I wasn’t all that interested in letting someone who stood by my side slowly starve to death in the middle of nowhere. Between Marco’s paranoia, Tobias’s isolation, and the matching deaths of my brother and my cousin, I’d done enough damage. I’d already lost Menderash’s arm. I could at least preserve his life.

The cables keeping Menderash suspended were too thick to break and way too complicated to dismantle. Luckily, Menderash’s human form was slight, and it would be easy to slip him out. I wrapped my arms around him. “Come on, big guy,” I said.

I got Menderash out easily. He immediately put all his weight against me. He felt more like a heavy bag made of bones and skin than he felt like a human who could stand up and function on his own. I pushed him away, as gently as I could, and forced him to hold himself up. I kept my hands on his shoulders. I looked him over.

Some of the Andalites were more comfortable with their human morphs than others, and Menderash generally had a natural ease with body language and facial expressions. Right now, he looked more like Tobias, connected to his body by the barest of threads. I knew why. Sometimes, when the pain was bad, you could mentally lean away from a morphed body and just focus on your inner self. It took away some pain. Not a lot, but some. Menderash must be doing that now.

He didn’t deserve this. I should have made a different call. I should have given him more time to strap himself into something stronger, or asked him to be far away from the bridge with all its harsh angles and falling equipment. I should have—

I shook my head. Menderash was in front of me, blank as a doll. If I wanted him to have a full and happy life, I needed to get him out of the Andalites’ care.

<Please, let him go,> came a voice. I whirled around. My guide was back, and he was flanked by two other giant military Andalites. <The fiction that you Animorphs believe this man to be a true Earth human is a pretty one, and one that must remain. It is best for both humans and Andalites that one of our own did not conspire with humans to give them access to a Z-space engine. Even in  _ this _ day and age, that is a severe breach of our laws. Pretend you know him as a comrade’s lover, and we will pretend he is nothing more than a  _ vecol _ .>

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said smoothly. “This man is partnered to my soldier. I will return him to Earth.”

<Please do not be coy, Honorary General,> said the Andalite.

“What do you mean?” I asked innocently. “I just want to bring this man home.”

I braced myself for the Andalites to brandish their tails. Let them. I knew I could distract them and morph. Let their blades meet my fangs. 

The tails remained in place. However, the two military men that were acting as back-up to my guide took out their shredders.

Shit. 

It’s strangely easy to forget that Andalites typically fight with weapons and not their tails. I was used to Ax, who had no access to technology and fought with nothing but desperation and muscle and blade. I could work with that, as long as I wasn’t fighting against Ax himself. No one was as good as him. But shredders at point blank range? That was a different story.

<Do not make this difficult,> said the Andalite. His weapon gleamed in the false light, metal and white and deadly.

I stared at it, and something within me broke.

My shoulders pushed back and my spine straightened. I made contact with the Andalite’s main eyes.

“That’s more of a problem for you than it is for me,” I bluffed.

I couldn’t stand up to three Andalites pointing deadly lasers at me, not as a weak and fleshy human. I didn’t care. 

I’ve been an emptied thing for years, a shell, a parody of a person that walked and talked but was shaped of walnut and lined with silk. When I go, I want to go in a way that matters. If I went right here, right now, it’d be fine. I would have bought Menderash time.

The Andalites stared at me, expressions alien and unreadable.

I was a bear surrounded by all the claws and teeth and poison Earth had to offer, backed against a wall with no where else to turn.

It was fitting.

I was fearless.

“Well?” I said.

Suddenly, Eroselfus turned away. I had a feeling he and the other two Andalites were conversing, but I had no idea what they were conversing about. Even though eavesdropping on private thought-speak was impossible, Menderash’s eyes went wide like he’d overheard something terrible. He was gripping my forearm tightly. His face had gone pale.

<Stay here,> said Eroselfus. <We will return shortly.> He paused, presumably to converse with the other Andalites. <Do not try and leave. The entrances are protected.>

I nodded, swallowing an urge to attack them as they left. Adrenaline had been poured into me, but fighting the Andalites was not the best way to use it. I was here to rescue Menderash, and they had given me a window to do so. They asked me to stay still and wait, but they had clearly forgotten something.

I could morph. 

Marco had been right on the money, not just about the Andalite’s shady motives, but about their treatment of aliens. They really did think we were all stupid, and that made  _ them _ stupid.

The three Andalites walked away. Menderash tugged at my arm, and pulled me further into the alcove.

“They have found—something,” he said, speaking quietly. “Something that has made them quite paranoid. They are going to go after Aximili. You must stop them.”

“How do you know this?” I asked, instinctively matching his volume.

Menderash peaked out the alcove. “Private thought-speak is not so private when one has access to surveillance methods,” said Menderash.

I blinked in surprise. “You can record private thought-speak?” I said. “I know you can record thought-speak in general from broadcasts, but—”

“Now is not the time,” he interrupted. “Listen. This building will not be outfitted to record audible speech. We can speak freely, but quickly. There are three hatches in this building, designed to helicopter in Andalites that are in critical condition. I can open them, very briefly, and allow you to escape. Once you do, find Aximili.”

“Fine,” I said. The black stripes appeared on me first. I watched, with increasingly clarity, as Menderash slowly realized what I was doing. “But you’re coming with me.”

“That is impossible,” he said.

<It’s not,> I said, now completely tiger. <Climb on.>

Menderash looked at me with an openly shocked expression. He definitely seemed to be connecting with his body again. “I’m sorry?”

  
  


The tiger was of jungles and desert and snow. It adapted to extremes with a shrug and change of coat. What was a world of digital skies and manufactured forests to a tiger? It was nothing more than a new playground.

At first, Menderash resisted my plan. But the ancient instincts in our bodies craved some sort of survival without our permission. Even with his glassy eyes, even with my emptiness, we found ourselves struggling to live. Besides, Ax calling for me made him a  _ nothlit, _ and it was my fault he was a  _ vecol _ . I could at least give him a chance at a life outside Andalite prejudices. 

He knew how to dismantle the sling, and we quickly used the cables to tie him to my body. Between my paws and his one arm it had been difficult, but we managed, and managed quickly, because he had to protect his Prince and I had to protect him.

I waited as he pulled up his strange invisible computer, and put in whatever codes he had to put in to access the hatches. The nearest emergency hatch, by my estimate, would require me to run uninterrupted for seven minutes. I wasn’t exactly Ax when it came to telling time, but I was an expert at this body, and I knew what it could do. Ten minutes maybe didn’t seem like a long time, but I knew from far too much experience that I would be vulnerable and exposed after about thirty seconds. 

Menderash counted down.

I coiled my muscles.

“Three… two… one.”

I roared. I roared as I had always roared; my whole body vibrating, my throat at the edge of ripping and tearing.

I was adrenaline and muscle and claws. I was not of this planet, and that made me more than a tiger. Here, I was a monster, a creature never before seen. I was a blur of otherworldly orange and jagged black lines. I had a mouth with sharp teeth and a tongue that was fat and wet on a planet that knew neither. I roared and ran, ran and roared, a nightmare of stars and space and Earth.

I made noise because the Andalite hospital had been pin drop quiet, and even my padded feet would make a difference. There would be no subtle escape, no matter what I did, and the roar of a tiger was heard in the places people hide their nightmares. Fear would buy more time than curiosity.

One minute. Two minutes. With the hologram down, the walls were revealed to be made up of something that seemed half wood, half bamboo. It was an unflattering yellow-beige. It was easy to understand why Andalites would hide it.

Three minutes.

I could see the open hatch now, dark maroon sky peeking through sickly yellow.

Four minutes.

I heard the Andalites closing in. I pushed myself faster. I was going so fast, I was at risk of losing control. Distantly, I noticed Menderash was screaming.

Suddenly, I felt a flash of pain. I’d been hit by a shredder, and my left back leg took all of it. I adjusted myself to run three legged without missing a beat. I was well-practiced at it. At least this time, I wasn’t bleeding out through an entire severed limb.

I think that trick bought me some time. The Andalites didn’t know how used to this I once had been. At least the pain of the shredder was cold and quick. It didn’t spread across my nerves like the Dracon beams. It was effective, not cruel. I used that to my advantage. I was used to so much more pain.

Five minutes. Six.

I kept my eyes on the open hatch, running toward the sky. Real sky, dust red and blood red, alien sky—

Then, it shimmered and disappeared.  _ Shit. _

<Someone turned the holograms back on,> I said to Menderash. Menderash just screamed in response.

If the hologram was gone, then the emergency hatch would be closing. I had only seen it as a patch of sky, and not seen how it was constructed. How would it close? Up and down? Left to right? Two doors meeting in the middle? I had no way of knowing. 

Seven minutes.

I pushed out one last burst of speed, directed toward where I thought the hatch had been. There was no choice. I would leap through the closing door, or I wouldn’t, and that was the end of it.

I leapt.

The true outside world appeared to me like reality had glitched. I was flying through the air in an arc, orange and black against red sky, which would have meant certain death if it weren’t for the Andalite’s obsession with domes. After a few seconds, I landed hard on the side of the building. I protracted my claws and used them to force myself backwards, so that I was staring up at the building as I was sliding down. I used my back claws to stabilize my descent. I dug out little curls of Andalite material as I slid, and they rained down on me like ribbons of encouragement.  It was wild and dangerous. In a small and buried part of myself, I thought,  _ this is kind of fun. _

Rachel would have loved this. I could almost hear her laugh. She would have wanted me to enjoy it, so I let my heart rise.

Eventually, I found my footing and a sort of rhythm. I was rappelling down the building with leaps and claws, dangerous but controlled, roaring for the joy of it. When I was about twenty feet away from the ground, I propelled myself off, and then I ran.

Menderash had managed to stay on the entire time, which was impressive, especially in his condition. The place on my neck where he was holding onto my skin was as raw as anything, but this body wasn’t mine. I’d shed it soon.

I ran for as long as I could. When I knew I had absolutely nothing else inside me, I slowed down, then started demorphing. As much as I didn’t care about this body, I also didn’t want to feel the aftermath of all I’d done in it.

I felt Menderash roll off of me. The cables must have come loose. The fact that he had held on for so long was nearly a miracle. I heard him start puking. I averted my eyes, trying to afford him what privacy I could, and finished my demorph. Morph exhaustion waved through me, which is a very particular feeling where you technically know your muscles are capable of motion, but your brain is telling you your entire body has become lead and that there is no possible way to continue any physical activity. I sat down, hard. Did I really feel this exhausted after just two morphs and one intense but ultimately quick escape?

“I’m old now,” I said, staring up at the sky.

I glanced over at Menderash. He had a shredder burn on his leg. I wasn’t as experienced with shredders as I was Dracons, but by my estimation, he’d been hit in a way that was like a second degree sunburn. He’d hurt, but he’d be fine.

He was staring up at the sky, panting. He had dried tears on his cheeks. He noticed me looking at him, and he scowled. “Why did I  regurgitate the contents of my stomach?  I am familiar with the process, but only in the context of recreational poisoning.”

“Uh,” I said, rubbing at my temples. I wasn’t emotionally prepared to explain the ins and outs of  puking  to an alien. “It happens for a lot of reason. Fear is one of them.”

“Ah,” he said. He sniffed, pushed himself forward so that he was balancing without his arm, and then he rubbed at his eyes. “This body is… more complex than I thought.”

I nodded and forced myself to stand. I looked down at Menderash and frowned. “Wait. Since when do you drink?”

Menderash looked up at me with exhausted, watery eyes. “Quite often,” he said blandly.

I pressed my lips together, studying Menderash. I always assumed he had more motivation and depth than he cared to share, but I guess I had never really thought much about it before. He was pretty much always in a bad mood, and that didn’t really make me want to care too much about him. Marco or Santorelli would sometimes attempt to lighten him up, but it never worked. I just wrote him off as a shitty person, and figured that he’d done what he’d done for Ax out of some sort of Andalite honor code. 

Now, he was sitting on the ground in the middle of nowhere, engulfed in borrowed clothes that were now stained and torn _.  _ He had been shoved into a forgotten hospital corner, his own people intending to heal him just until he was well enough to be thrown away as an outcast and starve. His body was exhausted and worn through and was permanently damaged with no hope of recovery. Menderash had received no glory, no honor, and he had accepted his fate. He had made sacrifices for Ax in a way I had never understood before.

I looked up at the sky. It was getting darker, going from maroon to a red-tinged black. I looked back down at Menderash. “We need to hide you,” I said.

Menderash scoffed, a hoarse, scratching sound. “We both need to hide,” he said. “The military will not allow you to return to Earth, not after rescuing me. I am traitor, a  _ vecol, _ and a dishonorable  _ nothlit.  _ It is a great sin to help someone like myself.” Menderash sniffed again, then slowly started to force himself into a standing position. I held out a hand to help him. He looked at it in displeasure for a moment, and then he grabbed it.

“There is one place we could go,” he said, stretching out his back. “It is called  _ Voktra _ .”

“Where is that?” I asked, keeping my voice as calm as possible. 

Menderash’s eyes went unfocused as he looked over the Andalite-internet or whatever it was. “It is not a fixed place. It does not want to be found.”

“So it’s illegal?” I asked, blinking. “Are you sure that’s the best place for you?”

“Yes,” said Menderash. He seemed to look at his invisible computer again. “If I still have access to—ah. I have located it, and have sent for a vehicle to transport us.”

“Wait, you— _ what _ ?” I said, shocked. “Look, I know I’m not the big Andalite expert, but we should think before we order some kind of taxi whatever this—”

Menderash laughed softly. “Do not worry,” he said. “I have my ways.”

It occurred to me that Menderash had disabled the hologram and opened up the hatch with less resistance than I had signing into AOL. No questions asked, no answers needed. Slowly, I stepped into the blue egg. Where had he gotten this? Why had it come to him so quickly? 

I was tired. I felt like a child’s playhouse made of sticks and pillow cases, a structure held together for only a summer afternoon and then never again. I had enjoyed myself in a way I hadn’t felt for years, but only because there was danger and risk, and only because I had been raised in war and knew no other way to find happiness. I didn’t want to face that, but it was there, and it would be faced. I was a breeze away from becoming nothing but a pile of wood and linen on the ground. I couldn’t hold it together for long.

I needed to try. I had too many questions about Menderash-Postill-Fastill.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicidal ideation, drug mention, emetophobia


	7. Tobias

It was a few hours before I located the Andalite city. I had to backtrack from Ax’s family scoop to where he’d rested after his run, then retrace the flight I had taken after I broke off from the group, then fly in the direction the group had been walking—all while the sky started darkening and the air got colder. I was way tired after all of that, but there wasn’t any time to worry about it. Which I guess was kind of a good thing in a way, since it meant I also didn’t have time to dwell on Noorlin and Forlay, or freak out about being the Ellimist’s really super great grandson. But I  _ really _ would have prefered to distract myself with, like, a lesson in Andalite botany or something instead of Ax getting kidnapped. Again.

All in all, it was surprisingly easy to find where they’d taken the humans, seeing how the Andalites weren’t into paved roads. I could still see impressions of shoes in dirt. All the footsteps stopped at some building, and I flew around it until I could see someone I recognized. Which, again, was easy, seeing how most of these rooms had giant, open windows. Man, the Andalites were really making things simple for me, except for kidnapping my friend and everything.

I found Jeanne first. She was napping, something Ax and I should definitely have done instead of having an awkward family reunion. I’ve always thought she was a really smart person.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t really leave and let her sleep. <Jeanne!> I said, directing my thoughts to her and her alone. She stirred, but didn’t wake up. 

Thought-speak is actually kind of useless for waking up a human. During the war, none of the Animorphs slept all the way anyway, and we were all half waiting for a panicked thought-speak alarm. Anyone who wasn’t us? Hopeless. You could yell at Marco’s dad for hours and all he’d do is wake up on his own terms, stretch, and say “Hey, Tobias, you were in my dream!”

Just before I could figure out a new plan, a bunch of Andalites burst into Jeanne’s room.  _ That _ woke her up right away. I flew toward a nearby tree, a brightly colored situation with tons of branches that sort of looked like a crazy straw. I didn’t blend in at all, but there were enough giant leaves to hide me. 

The Andalites had Santorelli with them. He was walking with his hands in his pockets. He looked for all the world like some regular guy at a mall, except for the tail blade that was at his neck. Jeanne noticed that the same time I did, and fur immediately started growing on her body. An Andalite hit her with some kind of beam, and whatever she was turning into got sucked right back into her skin. She got a tail blade at her neck, too. 

All the Andalites were speaking privately, but I could still hear Jeanne. She said, “I have done nothing but sleep since I arrived on this planet. I can promise you I have no idea where Berenson or Champlin may have gone.”

I ruffled my feathers. An in! <Don’t react,> I said to Jeanne, <It’s Tobias. I don’t have any idea what’s going on, but I promise I’ll figure it out. Marco and Jake are missing, I guess?>

Jeanne’s expression did not change when I spoke to her, which was really impressive. She was probably listening to two sets of thought-speak at once. Slowly and imperceptive to anyone who wasn’t looking for it, she nodded.

<Okay,> I said, my mind racing. <And you really don’t have any idea where they went?>

Again, she nodded, all while saying, “I will cooperate,” to the Andalites. Did they teach you how to have two brains in France?

<Stay calm,> I told her. <Just do what they say. I’ll find Jake, and—>

Two Andalite stalk eyes turned up and looked right at me in unison. 

I pushed off the tree and soared into the air, hoping against all hope that I was moving fast enough to escape the Andalites. As soon as someone caught me, it’d be over. I had to stay free and come up with a plan. This was really great, considering I was on an alien planet, had no idea what was happening, and had no idea how to start figuring anything out.

<Jake?> I called lamely, targeting my thought-speak toward him even if I had no idea where he was physically. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t answer.

I flew as fast and hard as I could, pumping myself up way higher in the sky than I should, trying to cover as much ground as possible. Eventually, I saw a bunch of Andalites running toward something. They all looked like big military guys, which could mean they were going somewhere important. I followed them, staying out of sight, and hoped they weren’t just leading me to some kind of hip Andalite hang out spot that had nothing to do with Jake.

We ended up in front of a crazy looking building. I perched on a tree, hiding my body and giving myself a moment to catch my breath. That was a mistake. I was exhausted and malnourished and as soon as I perched, I felt all will I had to continue searching for Jake just start leaking from me like an open wound. My eyes closed without my permission. I started wondering if there was really any point to it. If the Andalites wanted us, they could have us. We were on their planet, and our morphing tricks wouldn’t really work against the society that invented the technology.

Then, just as I was about to give it all up, I heard a roar. My eyes shot wide open, and I watched as a tiger ran down the side of the building with a distinctly Menderash-shaped human on his back. My feathers stood on end and my beak fell open. I could have laughed. Watching Jake pull something that dumb filled me up with equal amounts of fear, disappointment, nostalgia, and pride. It was a Berenson move if I ever saw one.

I watched them run off. No one followed them. The Andalites clearly didn’t expect them to actually, you know, jump out of a building. I launched myself after them. At this point, the sky was so dark it was almost as brown as I was, giving me a little more coverage. I still had to be really careful. Now, not only could I get myself in trouble, I could lead the Andalites straight to Jake.

I wasn’t noticed. Eventually, Jake and Menderash stopped running, making it really easy to catch up to them. I swooped in and landed on the ground.

“Hey Tobias,” said Jake mildly, as if there was absolutely nothing bizarre about his token bird boy showing up out of the blue on an alien planet. In our world, it wasn’t.

<Hey Jake,> I said. <They kidnapped Ax, so I thought I’d check in and see if anyone else got kidnapped.>

“Good move,” asked Jake. “We almost were. What’s the damage?”

<They got Santorelli and Jeanne for sure. The Andalites are still looking for Marco. I watched you run down that building. That was cool. Stupid, but cool. I’m glad you didn’t die.>

“Thanks,” muttered Jake. He looked at Menderash, who was incredibly pale and breathing shallowly. “You said something about a vehicle?” he asked. 

“Yes,” said Menderash. “It should be here soon.”  He looked at me, concern and worry blatant in his expression. “Did you see who took Prince Aximili?” he asked. I shifted a little, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Menderash wasn’t usually an emotional guy. In the six months we’d been on a ship together, his emotions ranged from sullen to frustrated to sullenly frustrated. I really wasn’t used to this sort of look on his face.

<I did, but I can’t ID him,> I said, trying to sound soft and comforting. I wasn’t sure if I was successful. It’s not that I didn’t feel bad for him, it’s just that I’d spent a lot of time alone in a forest. If an eagle loses his wife to a wolf, the eagle typically doesn’t get offended if my condolences aren’t warm enough. It just tries to eat me. Basically, I was way out of practice.

Menderash let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes. “That is fine,” he said. “I believe I already know where they have taken him, and why.”

“Tell us,” said Jake impatiently.

Menderash opened up his eyes. “In due time,” he said. “The vehicle has arrived.”

A light blue oval hovercraft floated toward us. It was sort of like Cinderella’s carriage, but only if Cinderella had wished upon an egg instead of a pumpkin. It was completely empty inside.

<Um,> I said. <Who is driving?>

“Don’t be silly,” said Menderash. “There is no reason for a vehicle to be piloted by an imperfect sentient when artificial intelligence is so much more reliable. Please do not apply moronic human concepts to Andalite inventions.”

“What  _ is _ this?” asked Jake.

Menderash smiled, warm and genuine, which sent a weird shiver down me. It wasn’t a bad thing, not really, but it was sort of like if a poster above your bed of some super hot and super serious model randomly grinned. It just didn’t compute. “I designed this at the behest of a friend. Her older brother had lost his back legs in combat, and he was sent off to isolation. She wished to smuggle him back to society, and asked me to build a covert vehicle. While I did worry about the emotional impact of the  _ vecol _ in question interacting with society, the vehicle aspect intrigued me.” 

He placed a hand on the big blue egg and gazed at it lovingly which, again, was a totally new expression for Menderash. “I call this a ‘taxi’, based off of the Earth concept. It is designed to run at a lower energy output than would typically be caught on scanners, all while still making good speed and running on off-road terrain. The taxis have served us well, allowing the council of  _ Voktra  _ considerable freedom when it comes to transporting those in unfortunate situations.” He looked back at us. “Please be forewarned. There are no comforting holograms inside the taxi, as that would amp up the energy signal considerably. It is quite cramped, and nearly intolerable.”

I waited for Jake to say something. He was a lot better at communicating with people than me, even back when I was talking to the Animorphs on a daily basis. When he said nothing, I looked over at him. Jake was studying Menderash with a way too familiar expression, one that I hadn’t seen in a while. It sent ice through my veins.

When Jake looked at someone like that, he was trying to figure them out. He was trying to see every individual gear in a person, every mechanism and every gadget, and find all the pieces that were useful to him. When Cassie did that, it was to find the places where a person was missing something, and fill it with patience and understanding. When Marco did that, it was a cursory glance, a quick assessment to see if someone was ready-made and useful. When Jake did it, it was a slow thing, and a long thing, and he was figuring out all the ways he could break you down and assemble you back as something he needed.

He’d looked at me like that right before he sent me to Taylor. He looked at Marco like that, when Marco shared his plan on how to knock out Vissers One and Three in one steady blow. He gave that look to Cassie when she told us how to trap David, and he gave that look to Ax before forcing him to torture Chapman. He gave  _ her _ that look nearly every mission, asking her again and again to give into her own darkness until she could do nothing but crave it. I felt a tightening in my wing muscles, feeling an intense urge to leave and get as far away from Jake as I possibly could—but I didn’t. 

I’d spent the past six months living side by side with Jake Berenson. It wasn’t easy. Some days, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but most days at least I didn’t regret it. I would never fully forgive him, but I’ve seen enough of him to know that he’s punishing himself more than I ever could. It’s not that I found joy in that, or never wanted him to find peace. It’s just that it was hard to hold hate for someone when you could physically see the weight of his choices on his perpetually hunched shoulders. Loren told me, once, that holding onto anger was like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. I thought of that, and waited for the expression to slide off of Jake’s face. When it did, it was easier to remember that I still respected him.

“You’re giving us more information than explanations,” said Jake carefully. “Slow down. What is the council of  _ Voktra _ ?”

Menderash gave a slight incline of his head, then averted his eyes. “We will speak in the taxi,” he said, half mumbling. “Please, get in first. I will need help.”

Jake stepped inside, politely ignoring Menderash’s embarrassment. I fluttered in after them. There weren’t any chairs in the taxi, which made sense. It wasn’t really designed for humans or even hawk-shaped sapients. There were plenty of plants, which seemed to be the Andalite decor of choice. I really liked it. It made more sense and was way prettier than, like, a bowl full of silver balls, or framed pictures of squares. Marco’s house was  _ full _ of that stuff. There’s no way he actually cared about any of it. I mean, he used to have Spiderman bed sheets.

I perched on a sturdy looking branch and watched as Jake pulled Menderash up into the vehicle. The bandages around his wound were stained with dry blood, but I noticed that a fresh patch had blossomed. He stumbled into the taxi and immediately sat down on the ground, leaning his back against the wall and breathing rapidly. 

<You don’t look great,> I said.

“Yes, and pointing that out is useless and unproductive,” snapped Menderash.  _ That _ was the Menderash I was used to. 

Jake knelt down and studied Menderash like he was making some sort of an assessment. “Can you hold on just a little bit longer?” he said, managing to sound caring without tipping into cloying. “Just long enough to tell us where we’re going, and what to expect?”

Menderash looked up at Jake, then closed his eyes and let his head roll to the side. I would have been worried if he didn’t immediately start thought-speaking. < _ Voktra _ is both a state of mind and a physical place. It is named after a persistent strain of disease that often plagues guide trees when they are incompetently cared for. It is a movement much influenced by humanity, the Animorphs, and Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, though he is far too humble to take credit,> Menderash said. I saw a small, exhausted smile appear on his face when he mentioned Ax. It made me like him a little more. 

<Andalites have had allies before, but none so revolutionary as humans. Humans are, of course, inferior in many ways, but they are also a reflection of Andalite weaknesses. Andalites as a whole would benefit from further freedoms, from further expressions of creativity.  _ Voktra _ seeks to dismantle the military rule we Andalites have suffered under for centuries, which is ill suited for the ways of our people. Please understand, in no way do we wish to become humanity. You are as ridiculous as you are inspiring.>

<Thanks for reassuring us,> I said. <For a second there, I thought I’d met a humble and open-minded Andalite. It was scary.> Jake tried to suppress a smile.

<Of course,> said Menderash, without irony. <Andalites are Andalites, humans are humans. But, much like Andalites are sharing our superior technology with humans,  _ Voktra _ feels that humanity could positively influence Andalites. The military does not agree, and this sort of conversation has become all but illegal. Therefore, those of us who follow the  _ Voktra _ state of mind have organized a meeting place that changes at every nightfall. Before I did what I did for Aximili, I was prominent at these gatherings. I feel they may still accept me, even as I am.  _ Vecols _ are welcomed by some in  _ Voktra,  _ and human morphs are rampant. Does that satisfy your curiosity?>

Jake opened his mouth, then closed it again, lost in thought. “A little,” he said, slowly and deliberately. “Basically, you’re taking us to the Andalite equivalent of a political rally?”

<Perhaps, though it is much more in depth. The exchange of human pleasures is a key aspect to  _ Voktra, _ in that—>

He cut off, suddenly, and went totally silent.

“Menderash?” asked Jake, but Menderash didn’t answer.

<He fell asleep,> I said. <It used to happen to Ax a lot, thought-speaking until his brain turned off.>

“Oh,” said Jake. He stayed still for a moment, then reached over and ripped a leaf off of a decorative tree. He started fiddling with it, turning it around in his hands and meticulously folding it in various ways. 

It wasn’t the most comfortable I’ve ever been. Physically, I was fine, aside from the exhausted and malnourished thing. My talons fit nicely around the tree branch and I felt safe. But emotionally? Jake had become something between a zombie and a symbol, a body that had been emptied of everything but war strategy and focus, then emptied of that. Yeah, I’d forgiven and yeah, I felt bad for him, but that didn’t make him any better at conversation. Honestly, I’d rather be in here with Marco, and that was saying a lot. At least Marco was a person.

I closed my eyes. He probably didn’t want awkward attempts at communicating either. As soon as I started feeling myself drift away, Jake suddenly decided we _ should  _ be chatting.

“Do you think Ax and Menderash were, you know. Close?”

I opened my eyes and stretched my wings a little, like Jake was an annoying corvid I was trying to get rid of. <Probably. They were Prince and First Officer, after all.>

Jake nodded slowly, clearly processing something, but I had no idea what it was. “Prince and First Officer, sure. But that’s still a lot to give up just for a superior.” 

I shrugged my wings. <It’s his business.>

“Right,” said Jake. “It’s just, I mean, who would  _ you _ become a  _ nothlit _ for?”

<You, your cousin, Marco, and Cassie,> I said dryly. <Six years ago, in order to not reveal we were humans. Haven’t you heard this story before? I can’t remember if I told you.>

“Ha,” said Jake, still looking distracted. “That was different. Seriously, what would it take for someone to go human, permanently, with deliberate intent?”

An old and buried part of me wanted to scream, to remind Jake that he was the one who sent the only person who ever made me  _ feel _ human into an enemy ship with no back-up—and then it clicked.

< _ Oh,> _ I said. <Do you think it was—they were—like that?>

Jake shrugged. “Could be,” he said.

<You’d think Menderash would have said something!> I said, my mind reeling, reevaluating everything I knew about Menderash and how he talked about Ax. Come to think of it, he actually rarely talked about Ax. That suddenly made a lot of sense.

Jake sort of shrugged. “I never thought to ask. Did you?” said Jake.

<I—well, no, I guess I didn’t,> I said. My feathers stood on end. <But shouldn’t  _ Ax _ have said something? Before he was, you know, possessed? Like, one of us should have known? Right?>

Jake looked up at me, making direct and pointed eye contact. “Again, I never asked.”

Silence.

“None of us asked,” he said.

Silence.

<No,> I said.

Jake looked back down at the leaf in his hand. He folded it in half, then folded it back on itself. “We’re shitty friends,” he said, quietly.

I adjusted my weight. <At least you’re just a friend,> I said, just as quiet. <I’m a shitty nephew.>

We sat together, both at a loss for words, both looking at ourselves with an uncomfortable clarity. I looked over at Menderash. <Good for Ax-man, I guess,> I said, suddenly desperate to break the silence. <Though he’s not really what I thought Ax’s, um, type would be.>

“What do you mean?” asked Jake. “Because he’s a guy?”

I shook my head. Not a natural thing for a hawk, but doable. <Nyah, Ax never understood why humans were so worried about that kind of thing. I mean, I don’t either, but he  _ really _ didn’t understand. It’s just that Menderash is, you know,> I said, glancing back at Menderash again, making sure he was still fast asleep even if I was using private thought-speak. <He’s just not very nice.>

Jake laughed, short and bitter and understanding. “No, he’s not,” he said. “But I wouldn’t be either, if I were in his shoes.”

<Freshly human and chasing some half-dream that your boyfriend might be somewhat alive? Yeah. I guess I’d be frustrated too,> I said.

Jake nodded, and started unfolding the leaf. He smiled a little, then chuckled. “I think we just gossiped,” he said, his eyes still trained on the leaf.

<I think we did, too> I said. <We’re not that good at it.>

Jake laughed. “We’re not,” he said. “We’ll need to invite Marco next time. He’ll come up with something better to say about Menderash than ‘not nice’.”

<Ugh,> I said, already imagining all the unnecessarily mean things he’d say. <No thanks.>

Jake laughed again. It wasn’t a huge laugh, but it was genuine and honest and it’d been a very, very long time since I heard it.

We spent the rest of the ride in silence, but this time, it was a lot more comfortable.

 

Eventually, Jake and I joined Menderash in dozing off. The taxi must be used to this sort of thing, because both Jake and I woke up to a red light that was getting increasingly bright and shining out an open door.

Jake got up first, which caused the light to slowly fade away. Once the light was gone, I saw that night had fallen upon Andalite in full. The sky outside was no longer maroon or dark brown. It was just black.

“Ugh,” Jake said, rubbing at his eyes and frowning. “Was that an Andalite alarm clock?”

<I think so,> I said, stretching my wings. I looked down at Menderash. <Um, I don’t think he’s going to wake up on his own.>

Jake made a sympathetic sort of grimace and knelt down next to Menderash. Slowly, gently, Jake got Menderash to wake up. It was a side of Jake I hadn’t seen in a while, a side that was as foreign as it was familiar. At first, the way he managed to be kind and gentle but stern was what drew all of us to him. Toward the end, he was only ever our general, and I had forgotten about the gentle giant that was once inside. The way he was with Menderash reminded me of when we first met, when he chased off my monsters and looked at me with more concern than I was used to receiving. It was nice to know that Jake was still capable of that sort of thing, even if he was also still capable of manipulation and ruthlessness. 

Soon, Menderash was up, and we started walking up a hill, moving toward what Menderash assured us was  _ Voktra _ . I wanted to ask why the taxi didn’t just drop us off in the middle of the—town? Festival? Whatever it was, we should have just been there. But in the end I decided not to bother. Asking an Andalite about why they did something weird always just made things  _ more _ confusing, somehow.

The incline was rather steep, and it was definitely way too steep for Menderash’s current state. He was really struggling. Jake didn’t offer him help, but he did slow himself down considerably, allowing Menderash to believe he was keeping up. It was a nice gesture. If I had been in Menderash’s place, I wouldn’t have wanted Jake’s help, either. Jake always knew exactly how to avoid pity. At least, until he stopped caring about anyone’s emotions at all.

I perched on Jake’s shoulder, careful not to break his skin. It was hard. Perching on humans was a delicate art, and basically involved using talon muscles to grip in a way they had never been designed to do. Those muscles had atrophied. Like Ax, Jake didn’t say anything if I hurt him. It made perching on Jake a strange sort of intimate thing, but I wasn’t about to fly ahead when Menderash was moving so slowly. I could hide my pity, too.

Because of the hill and because I was on Jake’s shoulder, I couldn’t see much. I could, however, hear the noises of civilization get louder and louder. My heart started beating way too fast.

See, back on Earth, I could pretty much go anywhere as a hawk and most people wouldn’t notice. Sure, you’d get a few animal lovers, people who scanned the sky and watched me appreciatively, and I didn’t mind them. But most people were like Marco, who has literally _ been  _ a whole zoo, but still thinks every bird that is remotely blue is a blue jay. Most people don’t look around and see the whole wonderful world of nature. That’s okay by me. I don’t need to be seen by the whole world. I don’t like feeling conspicuous. When I was human, I _ always _ felt conspicuous, even if I was just sitting in Loren’s house. I was large and hideous and obvious. I couldn’t hide in the soft focus animal world, noticed only by those who loved our left of center universe. I had to stand bulky and exposed. I hated it.

That feeling was extending to Andalite. There were no other birds like me. If one person saw me, they’d make a big deal out of it. Eventually, everyone would be looking at me. The thought was freaking me out.

I thought about morphing. Not into myself, that was too weird. Jake still hadn’t seen my human morph, and I wasn’t ready for him to realize it was still a child. I had other morphs, though. There was a navy guy from way back when, who I had to acquire even if I didn’t have his permission. I didn’t want to morph him out of respect for that violation. I could morph Ax’s child self, but Ax was a public figure, and that might get weird. There was Taylor. I always thought of her DNA, twisted and pretty, swimming around inside me and waiting to be called on. Blonde, gorgeous, more eye catching than my human form yet somehow more invisible. Taylor was beautiful in a way that people  _ should _ be beautiful. Taylor existed in this world as a perfect whole, as something that wasn’t half alien and wrong. Taylor was the only human morph I had ever  _ liked, _ and I hated that.

I wouldn’t morph Taylor.

There was no choice. I would stay on Jake’s shoulder as a hawk. If I was stared at, then I’d be stared at.

Slow but steady, we continued up the hill. We were silent but for Jake and Menderash’s labored breathing, which I could hear with perfect clarity. Ax had mentioned many times that the biodiversity on Earth was astounding, and I never really understood it until now. There were no crickets singing on Andalite, no owls and no wolves. All noise came from us, and from whatever  _ Voktra _ was. Eventually, Menderash stopped and leaned against a nearby tree. He didn’t say anything, but he clearly needed a break. Jake could benefit from one as well. He’d been on the same ship I had, and we were both out of shape. I felt a little guilty for riding on Jake’s shoulders, even if my leg muscles hurt, and my wings were still sore from flying so quickly after Ax was taken.

“Ah,” said Menderash, speaking after he caught his breath. “I should remind you, again, that many Andalites express themselves in  _ Voktra _ by partaking in human pleasures. Aximili has explained to me these acts are shameful to true humans. Please, do not be alarmed.”

I would have smiled if I could. The image of a ton of Andalites in some sort of secret, underground city, all shoving Cinnabons into their mouth while stuttering out nonsense noises was hilarious. <We’ll be okay,> I said. <We’re used to it.>

Menderash looked surprised. “Aximili is normally quite conservative around humans,” he said. He thought for a second. “I believe he once mentioned partaking in some human pleasure with one of you Animorphs. Marco, I believe.”

<That’s true, I guess,> I said, laughing. You did have to hand it to Marco, he was hard to embarrass. He and I were the only two who could typically handle an Ax food court binge. <It’s fine, really,> I said. I looked over at Jake, who was smiling a little. He must be having the same mental pictures.

Menderash shrugged, then grimaced. I could only assume a sharp wave of pain was reminding him of his recent surgery. I really felt bad for the guy, regardless of him being nice or not. He should be in bed right now, being taken care of by Ax, who he risked everything to save. It made me really mad at whatever was going on with the Andalites. This was no way to treat a team who had brought back a beloved Prince.

Jake and Menderash started making their way up the hill again. The closer we got to the top, the more serene the scene felt. The Andalite night sky was a little lighter than night on Earth, and the light was still tinged with a dusty rose. It wasn’t cold, not really, but there was a persistent wind that was ghostly and combed through my feathers. The trees in this area were more akin to Earth trees, all stretching branches and leaves, but they were strangely shaped and glowed a light pink.

The noises of  _ Voktra _ started to get clearer. I heard drums and laughter and human voices. It didn’t sound like Earth, not at all; the drum beat at distinctly odd rhythms, and the voices were speaking in some kind of crazy language that might have been Galard. I also heard some moans, which was super weird. I guess every Andalite has their own individual quirks, like Ax did with his repeating sounds. Maybe some Andalites moaned while eating.

Just as I was about to start asking questions, we crested the top of the hill.  _ Voktra _ was revealed to us all at once, in fullness and clarity. Being a hawk, that meant it was  _ really _ full. And  _ really _ clear.

Up until now, everything I saw on civilized Andalite had been careful and meticulous. Shapes may look organic, but they were organically designed to wrap perfectly around a particular clearing, or be centered around groves of trees.  _ Voktra _ looked like something between a campsite and a city. Like if Yellowstone had been redecorated by rave kids. There were tents, but they lit up in weird colors. Neon-like signs hung from trees, all written in the Andalite script Ax once showed me. A pond was host to some kind of weird bake sale, and all the tables glowed. It was pure, untouched chaos.

Every nook and cranny was filled with some kind of activity. Andalites in natural bodies or human forms gathered in random places, often standing in strangely polite lines. Some of the human morphs were buck naked, while some of the Andalites wore little hats or sashes or coats. A few of the human morphs wore outfits that made Menderash’s most fancy gowns look understated. Like, really understated. And one time I watched Menderash come out of his cabin in a tailored suit, a fur coat, red gloves, high heels, and a black veil, do the dishes, and then go back into his cabin for the rest of the day.

Thing was, though, that stuff wasn’t exactly what I noticed first. That’s the stuff I noticed maybe, like, eleventh. For the first time in the past six years, I really, really regretted having hawk eyes.

<Oh my god,> I said, shuffling my weight on Jake’s shoulder.

“What is it?” he asked, squinting toward _ Voktra _ . Of course. His human eyes would still see _ Voktra _ as various colored blurs.

<Um,> I said, at a complete and utter loss for words.

I had no idea how to tell Jake that  _ Voktra _ was full of human-morphed Andalites banging like bunnies.

Lots and lots of bunnies.

Really, really dirty bunnies.


	8. Jake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings at the end

“Ow,” I said, my shoulder jerking away instinctively from Tobias. Tobias was normally incredibly careful when perching, but he’d lost control all of a sudden and was basically stabbing me. I touched the place where Tobias was standing and felt wetness. Great. “What’s going on?” I asked, not bothering to hide my annoyance. I didn’t mind the pain, but this was one of my more comfortable morphing shirts, and now it was stained and had a huge hole in it.

Tobias was too distracted to care about my shirt. He jumped off my shoulder and started flying high above in lazy circles. <Oh man. Oh  _ man. _ Jeeze. That—wow. How does  _ that _ even work? How does that  _ fit  _ there?>

Menderash glanced up at the sky, tracking Tobias. “Ah,” he said. “He did not heed my warning about human pleasures.”

< _ That’s _ what you meant by ‘partaking in human pleasure’?> Tobias said. <Dude! Ax and Marco never did all  _ this, _ they just made out! That wasn’t a warning!>

“What are you—” I started, but that’s when I realized I was close enough to  _ Voktra _ to really take notice.

There was a large, sturdy tree in front of me that glowed with a soft blue light that looked all the brighter against the red tinged sky. It had no foliage to speak of, but it had thousands of branches. A few long and sturdy, a few thinner and structural, and many that were little more than whisps. It looked as if it were in full bloom.

A person—an Andalite, I guess—was tied to that tree with thick vines that were peppered with small white flowers. The vine was wrapped around her in elaborate, artistic loops. She was suspended in such a way that twisted her body so that she looked frozen in dance. Her face was slack with pleasure, mostly because another Andalite was fucking her while another kissed and bit her neck. 

I have AOL. I’m familiar with this whole process. What was shocking was the Andalite fucking the suspended woman was wordlessly shout-singing what might have been  _ The Brady Bunch _ theme song, and the other Andalite kept blowing raspberries and making weird noises against her skin.

“Uh,” I said.

Lately, when I’ve been shocked, I’ve just felt a vague wave of surprise and then an immediate resignation to the situation. Not now. This one stayed with me.

I forced myself to look away. Immediately, my eyes fell on two girls and a guy  _ really _ going at it, and I mean all natural. There was no artistic display whatsoever. They were also all covered in a sticky red substance, which I thought was some sort of fruit syrup until I saw multiple bottles of Heinz ketchup on the ground next to them. They were licking it off each other like it was the substance of life. At least it wasn’t motor oil.

I rubbed at my eyes, trying to block out everything. As soon as I did, I heard a recording play the speech from  _ When Harry Met Sally. _ You know, “I love that you get cold when it’s 71 degrees outside?” I knew I shouldn’t, but I dragged my hands down my face and turned to find the source.

An Andalite was performing a striptease in front of a screen projecting the movie. It might have done something for me if there weren’t two other Andalites watching her and crying like they were witnessing high art.

I sucked in a deep breath and turned to look at Menderash, who looked almost hurt. I don’t think he expected us to react negatively to  _ Voktra _ .

“Okay,” I drawled out slowly, trying to spare his feelings. “The warning was good, Menderash, it’s just that this is  _ way _ beyond expectations. This isn’t really like how humans do it.”

Menderash looked vaguely offended. “Of course it is,” he said. “We have access to many Earth programs, including your pornographic material.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not…” I said, then decided to stop talking entirely. I wasn’t equipped for this conversation. I eased the pain growing at my temples, and then I frowned. “Wait,” I said, knowing Tobias was still in hearing range. “Marco and Ax used to make out?”

<Yeah, like, a lot,> said Tobias irritably. <It was super gross. They stopped when Marco started dating Collette.>

I blinked. “Marco dated Collette?”

<Or something like it,> he said. <You didn’t know?>

“No,” I muttered. “I didn’t.”

<Well, Marco dates a lot of people! Can we talk about this later? I’m really having a tough time processing this!>

I sighed and rubbed at my shoulder, which just made it hurt more. The pain felt earned and appropriate, considering I had completely missed my best friend’s attraction to a boy, his first kiss, and then his first girlfriend. I don’t think about the Hork-Bajir Valley a lot, but I know I had been impatient with everyone and had often acted selfishly. Yeah, it got dark for me, but everyone else managed to keep their heads above water. I didn’t. I let myself drown. I let myself get so dark I ordered the deaths of  17372 living and thinking beings, just because I could.

The back of my neck went cold. My ears filled with a soundless white noise. Reality started to bend, just a little, and everything seemed far away and small.

I grit my teeth and started morphing, going for falcon. I couldn’t check out, not now. Menderash was too callous to be left alone with Tobias, who was currently freaking out. Morphing gave me something to focus on and besides, I needed to get rid of my wound so I could think clearly. I didn’t need to go all the way. As I shrank, I got us back on track. “It’s just a little weird, but we’ll be fine,” I said, my voice sounding far more confident than I felt. “Menderash, where do we go from here?”

“I know of someone with connections,” he said. “He should be easy to find. He is the main source of black market Escafil Devices.”

“Black market Escafil Devices?” I asked. I was covered in feather patterns and my bones were hollowing out, but I still felt pain in my shoulder, so I pushed the morph forward a little more.

“Morphing technology is very restricted,” said Menderash. “It is given only to those in the military, or to those who test positive for  _ estreen _ abilities.  _ Voktra _ does not believe that is fair, and we offer morphing ability to all who want it.” 

I thought of baseball bats and lions and elevators. 

I thought of Aunt Ellen and Uncle George.

I thought of the way they looked at me when I explained every aspect of David, every twisted turn he took, and I thought of the way they told me to never speak to them again.

My throat shrank before my lungs. For a moment, I lost the ability to breath. It was welcomed, in a way. It shook me out of my thoughts. They weren’t helpful, and I was already sinking into memories and regrets. Besides, I had no right to comment on the politics of the Andalite homeworld. Judging by Tobias’s pointed silence, he felt the same.

In the end, all I said was, <Be careful with that.>

Tobias noticed that I’d switched to thought-speak. <Dude, why are you morphing?>

<Because you stabbed me,> I said.

<Oh,> said Tobias. <Yeah. Sorry about that.>

<No worries,> I said, briefly contemplating how strange it was that we talked about a serious injury like it was wine spilled on a tablecloth.

My shoulder had to have been healed by now, so I started to reverse the morph. <Come back down to me when you’re ready,> I said to Tobias. I watched as he started circling down. When I was completely demorphed, I looked to Menderash. “Lead the way,” I said.

Menderash gave me a curt nod, looked around, then started forward. I followed him. Soon, Tobias landed on my shoulder, perching much more carefully than he had been.

As we walked through  _ Voktra _ , I focused on the aspects that weren’t, uh, awkward. Menderash had said “exchanging human pleasures” was part of it, but not all of it, and he was right. We definitely walked by a lot of moaning and thrusting, but I also saw Andalites using sewing machines to make clothes for Andalties and humans alike. I saw makeshift kitchens preparing food that at least  _ looked _ beautiful, though you couldn’t pay me to eat any of it. I saw three human morphed Andalites passing around a bottle of whiskey, sharing a sort of unrestrained  _ fun _ I hadn’t seen since Ax’s early days at the food court. There was sex here, yes, but this was also a radical gathering of free thinkers who were discovering new art forms. If human fucking was the Andalite equivalent of a protest song, then so be it. The rest of it was kind of cool.

What wasn’t cool was watching people react to Menderash. Many folks, Andalite or human, would wave to him and come forward as he walked by, only to slowly back away. If they approached from his left side, they would notice his shredder burn, and start to ask something in a language I didn’t understand. As soon as Menderash would turn and answer them, revealing his missing arm, they quickly went away.

If they saw him from the right, they didn’t say anything at all.

He said people in  _ Vokra _ were open minded toward  _ vecols _ . I’m not sure if that extended to  _ nothlit vecols. _

Some of the Andalites in human morph weren’t shy about displaying revulsion proudly on their faces. I wanted to pull Menderash away and take him somewhere far from all the judgement. I couldn’t. I didn’t know where to go. The only thing we could do right now was follow him into  _ Voktra _ and hope his stamina didn’t give out before we found answers.

His own people were rejecting him, it was my fault, and I couldn’t do anything to make it better.

Eventually, Menderash found someone that interested him. They were Andalite-formed, and sitting at a giant loom. They were hand weaving some sort of material into a shimmering fabric that I recognized from a lot of Menderash’s outfits. Menderash gestured toward them. “I will be back.”

Menderash walked to the Andalite, and they looked up. The resulting emotions were easy to read, even on an alien. They were happy to see him, then shocked, then disgusted.

Menderash spoke out loud to the Andalite, using the language I’ve been hearing around  _ Voktra. _ Tobias cocked his head at the sound. <That language sounds weirdly familiar,> he said. <It’s not Galard, there’s not nearly enough hissing. Do you think it’s Andalite?>

I glanced at him. “Maybe,” I said, keeping my voice low. I didn’t want to speak at full volume and draw any more attention to myself than necessary. I already stood out way too much. There were a lot of humans around, sure, but they were all Andalite  _ frolis _ morphs. Andalite  _ frolis _ morphs tended to be very lithe, androgynous, and beautiful. I did not look like an Andalite  _ frolis _ morph.

The Andalite replied to Menderash in public thought-speak, and I was surprised to find I couldn’t understand her at all. Sure, I got some vague impressions of intent, but they were hard to sort through. Ax always told us we could understand Andalites because of how thought-speak worked, but I don’t think that was entirely true. I had only talked to Andalites with military language implants before, and those implants were clearly doing something to help translate the vague and confusing impressions I was getting from this weaver into something I considered speech.

Menderash and the Andalite finished their conversation, and Menderash returned to us. His face was grim.

“Did you find anything out?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Menderash quietly. “And I believe that is the last conversation we will ever have.”

I stopped breathing all at once, like my lungs forgot their purpose and imagined themselves as bone.

<I’m sorry,> said Tobias softly.

If I had thought to put him in one of the fighters, if I had tried to fight the Blade Ship with our weapons, if I had told him never to come in the first place and stopped him from becoming a  _ nothlit _ , if, if, if.

“I made my choices,” said Menderash. He flipped his hair behind him and turned away. “Come,” he said, projecting a conviction I’m not sure he felt.

I followed Menderash through this maze of odd festivities, pushing my thoughts away. I continued to politely ignore the more lurid aspects of  _ Voktra _ , though I don’t think any participants would have minded if I stopped to watch. I kept my gaze focused on people doing activities that could be shown on network television. As I did, I noticed a lot of these human morphs looked eerily similar. I also saw someone who was a little too short and stocky to be an Andalite  _ frolis _ morph, and I’m pretty sure I recognized him as one of the Earth embassy guys. He was sitting in an alcove that was filled to the brim with smuggled booze. I frowned.

“Hey Menderash,” I said, “Where do these Andalites get their morphs?”

<We welcome visiting humans to  _ Voktra _ , should they find us,> said Menderash in thought-speak. That meant he was either too exhausted to talk or too upset. It was probably a mixture of both. <It is a positive thing for humans to get to know Andalite as a joyful place with progressive civilians, rather than a repressed military base full of soldiers. They enjoy themselves. We understand much of what we do is taboo on Earth, and they relish in the opportunity to be free.>

I watched as a human-morphed Andalite handed the ambassador a drink that glowed the same sort of blue as the tree from before. I raised an eyebrow. “I guess,” I said. “And all the visiting humans from Earth are okay with getting acquired?”

<Of course,> said Menderash. <Permission is generously given. Many humans enjoy the process.>

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?” I asked.

<That totally checks out,> said Tobias. <I mean, I’ve never been nor _ ever  _ will be stoned, but when all the auxiliaries would acquire me in a row, I think I got sort of close. I wasn’t stupid or anything, but I was a strange sort of scary-relaxed. I hated it.>

I watched as the ambassador downed his drink in one go, then slid his glass over to the Andalite bartender. I rubbed at my face.

“Man, I’m not exactly protective of human and Andalite relationships, but I have an investment in them, you know?” I said, rambling a little. This place was stressing me out. “It’s a little worrying that we’ve sent people to represent Earth and they’re spending their time  _ here _ . I’m not a prude, I don’t care if people want to have a good time, but if  _ all _ of these Andalites are getting their morphs from a core group of ambassadors then I want to know where these elected officials are finding all this time! Don’t they have jobs to do?” I paused. “Do I sound like my dad right now?”

<Probably, but I agree with you,> said Tobias. He started preening his feathers, which sometimes meant his feathers needed to be cleaned but mostly meant he was agitated.

<They do their jobs adequately,> said Menderash, slightly huffy. < _ Voktra _ serves all who would benefit, and the humans benefit from the comforts of their home.>

The Andalite bartender refilled the ambassador’s cup with more blue liquid that definitely, definitely didn’t exist on Earth. A human morphed Andalite came up behind him and they started making out without exchanging a single greeting. “That’s not really what’s happening here,” I said.

The Andalite got down on her knees and unzipped the ambassador’s pants, which caused Tobias to jump off my shoulder and flutter up into the sky. I sighed. At least he didn’t tear my skin apart this time. “Come back down here, Tobias,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it. I couldn’t blame him for panic flying.

<This is—this is— _ too much _ !> he said. He circled higher and higher into the air. <Everything about this place is embarrassing! It’s disgusting! This isn’t how Earth should be represented! I’m not even involved in politics, I don’t care what the Andalites think about Earth, I don’t even like most humans but I  _ hate _ this!>

I sighed, preparing myself to talk him down again. Before I could open my mouth, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I jerked in surprise, but I didn’t exactly jump ten feet in the air like I normally would. Maybe this sounds weird, but I knew  _ exactly _ who it was from the angle of the hand and the amount of pressure.

I turned around slowly and came face to face with Marco. He grinned at me, sloppy and happy. He was somehow missing both his shirt and also exactly one shoe. He smelled like alcohol and sweat. He lost his balance a bit, and gripped my shoulder a little tighter.

“Hey man,” I said, as if finding Marco in the middle of an alien free love gathering was the most natural thing in the universe because, well, it was.

“You found Fuck Town,” he slurred.

“It’s  _ Voktra _ ,” corrected Menderash.

“Nope,” said Marco. “It’s definitely Fuck Town.”

<Jesus Christ,> said Tobias.

I had ignored Marco back at the hotel. I dismissed his suspicions because I was exhausted and empty and I didn’t have the energy to listen to him. He was the boy who cried wolf, sure, but we were in a forest and surrounded by hungry yellow eyes. He’d found his way here, somehow, without anyone’s help. I think I should have felt something like pride. I should have looked at my smart, resourceful friend, apologized for dismissing him, and told him how cool it is that he got himself to  _ Voktra _ on his own. I didn’t. I only felt cold and sick that I hadn’t been there to guide his energy and make sure he found answers safely.

Marco let go of my shoulder, only to roughly grip my arm. It made me feel like a ragdoll, jerked around by a boy with his favorite toy. “Jake,” he said in a stage whisper. “I was  _ totally  _ wrong about Andalite. Andalite is great. Best planet. Five out of five space Michelin stars. You can do  _ anything _ here. Anything. Anyone will do it. Sometimes two of them will do it at once.  _ As Andalites. _ ”

<Oh god,> said Tobias. <Did you--no. Why.  _ Why. _ >

“Oh, not  _ yet _ , but I gotta meet a guy at some tree when the moons high five or something,” he said, grinning. “You jealous I’m gonna fuck an alien before you do, bird boy?” Suddenly, he was frowning, as if his smile had simply fallen off his face. “Wait. Where’s Ax?” He turned around, apparently looking for Ax by spinning. “Ax!” he shouted, way louder than necessary. More than one Andalite glared at him.

I put my hands on his shoulders, gently turning him around. “Hey,” I said. “You need to morph this off. You were right.”

He cocked his head. “‘Bout what?” he said. “I say a lot of things. A lot of mean things. I’m sorry about that.” He held up one finger, like he was making a particularly important point. “I only point out you’re fat all the time because I want you to, I don’t know, make lunch sometimes instead of eating a whole box of Wheat Thins every three days. You’re my best friend, man. No matter what happens.”

<Ugh,> said Tobias. <What’s in the water here that made him an ‘I love you’ drunk? This is way worse than when he’s just annoying.  _ Please _ get him to morph.>

“I can hear you!” said Marco. He craned his neck to try and find Tobias, which only caused him to stumble backwards and crash into Menderash, who nearly fell over. I grabbed Marco’s arm and pulled him toward me.

“You were right about the Andalites acting suspiciously,” I said. “Something’s up.”

Marco blinked. “No,” he said, his slurred words coming out like molten lead, heavy and dark and hot. “I’m never right. I’m never right anymore. Don’t tell me I’m right this time. Tell me I’m wrong. I’m always wrong. Where’s Ax?”

I rubbed his shoulder a little, consoling him. “I wish you were wrong, too. Come on. We need you.”

Marco sighed, then stumbled backwards. He made an awkward sort of sweeping dip motion, as if he were doing a quick pre-bow for his future morphing performance.

I’d never directly told him, but Marco had always been awkward at morphing. He was slow and jerking, like low budget claymation while the rest of us looked nightmarish but at least from a decent studio. Now that he was plastered, he managed to make morphing from one human to another a sputtering, terrifying mess. Rather than his nose simply rearranging itself, it melted away, then regrew. His eyes turned a ton of unnecessary colors, like the morph wasn’t sure where it was supposed to go. His lips turned upside down before turning into a new pair of lips. It probably would have grossed out someone who wasn’t totally immune to morphing, but I found it kind of hilarious. I wish I was in the mood to laugh.

When he was done, he had a much clearer look in his eyes. He was also considerably more doughy and, well, plain. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Well,” he said. “I told you so.” 

“You did,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen.” I appraised him, looking at him up and down. “This is a different guy,” I said. The morph was almost a one eighty switch from the human he’d morphed back in the hotel room, which had been pretty similar to Marco.

Marco glanced down. “Yeah,” he said. “This is Mark. This is the morph I have perfectly cultivated to be the most average white guy in existence, and drunk me thinks he’s hilarious. Hey, you know, he kind of looks like you, doesn’t he?” said Marco, showing off his new body with a desperate sort of forced grin that told me he was really, really upset.

“I don’t think so,” I said dryly. “The blue eyes are a little too flashy for me.”

Marco laughed a little, then started melting back into himself. The process went much more smoothly this time around. “Okay, so, they took Ax-man? Where? And where’s Santo and Madame  _ Les Miserable, _ ” he said, over pronouncing  _ Les Miserable _ to the point of unrecognition. 

“The Andalite government took all of them,” I said. “We don’t know where or why.”

“Well, that would be too easy, wouldn’t it,” he said, his voice cracking awkwardly as it rose up to his regular, slightly whiny pitch. He finished his morph, adjusted his weight, and looked down at his feet. He clicked his tongue. “Drunk me also likes to lose Louboutins.”

<Priorities, Marco!> snapped Tobias.

“I have priorities!” said Marco, forcing his tone to be breezy. He even gestured dismissively at Tobias. “I can have two priorities. I’m missing both an old friend who went full Princess Peach and got kidnapped  _ again, _ and I’m missing a thousand dollar shoe. In space. We can’t find Ax, but at  _ least _ he’s local. I mean, my personal shopper just  _ isn’t  _ ready for this kind of travel.”

Tobias’s feathers stood on end. <Every dumb joke you make is just time we could have spent looking for Ax.>

“Hey, shouldn’t he be in bed?” Marco said, jerking a thumb toward Menderash and pointedly ignoring Tobias. “You look like shit, man, and I want you to know that I mean that.”

“It has been a very stressful few days,” said Menderash blandly. “Thankfully, due to the disconnect I feel from this body, I am able to function.”

Marco blinked in surprise, then shrugged. “Sounds perfectly healthy to me,” he said. He clapped his hands together. “So what’s next. What are we doing? Where are we doing it? And  _ who  _ are we going to do along the way?” He turned and looked at Menderash. He was upset, which made him jittery, and he was forcing that energy into frivolity. “Hey, Mendy, man, I’ve been hearing bits and pieces about you. You’re a lady in the military base but a freak in the civilian uprising. Here I am, thinking I’m the Animorph, I’m the celebrity, but everyone just keeps asking if it’s true that  _ you _ really went with Jake Berenson to rescue Prince Aximili. I might be jealous.”

<No one cares,> said Tobias.

I held up a hand. “I want to hear about this,” I said.

“I suppose I’m well known,” said Menderash distantly. “I contribute much to our military, as I believe in protecting my people and my planet. I am also a founder of  _ Voktra. _ Myself and three others did so with great secrecy. Even I do not know their real identities, only their human forms. However, as the Elecrate owes both me and my family for our innovations in weaponry, I am given more leeway than most. I make no secret of my identity. I believe it is important to stand up for one’s views if one is in a position to do so.”

“Well then,” said Marco, raising his eyebrows. “So this whole time, you’ve been this, like, badass rogue fighting against The Empire. You’re cool, Menderash. Hey, guys?” Marco gestured toward us. “I have declared Menderash cool.”

I looked at Tobias, who was looking at me. I gave him a small smile, making an effort to hid it from Marco. <Maybe he is Ax’s type after all,> said Tobias, privately. I gave him a small nod. 

“Which one of these founders do we talk to first?” I asked.

“Grass will aid us,” said Menderash. “He is always at  _ Voktra _ festivals.”

“Grass?” said Marco incredulously. “His name is Grass? Damn. You Andalites are  _ really _ hitting the bottom of the barrel when it comes to names. I’m way too disappointed to even make a weed joke.”

<Obviously, that is not his real name,> Menderash snapped. <The founders had initially used chosen pseudonymes based on the myths of the First Andalites. I was known as Flower, though my true name eventually bled through my false identity. The rest are still only known as Grass, Tree, and Father.> He pointed toward a small alcove where something like a tent was set up. <I can see his power generators are in use over there. He will receive us.>

<Then let’s find Ax,> said Tobias, launching himself into the air even if the distance was almost too short for him to bother flying. I nodded to the rest of the team, indicating that we should follow. We went, gingerly stepping over a pair of very eager two human-morphed Andalites that were in our way. They didn’t seem to notice. They were preoccupied.

The generators from outside Grass’s tent emitted a loud buzzing noise. It shocked me a little how much that bothered me. I had spent six months on a ship, where the hum of electronics became a version of silence. Now, after being on Andalite for just a short amount of time, I had gotten used to complete and total lack of background noise. The generators were getting to me.

The inside of Grass’s tent looked like the set of a mad scientist movie, only a really, really updated one. There were multiple screens that ran lines of Andalite script. There were tons of crazy bottles with liquids inside that looked like various types of sludge. Where there wasn’t a screen or a bottle, there were various contraptions with uses I couldn’t begin to understand.

At the back of the room was definitely an Andalite in morph. He was as tall and thin as Menderash, with slightly darker skin and a bald head that brought out his modelesque bone structure. He had somehow managed to have one blue eye and one green eye. Surprisingly, that wasn’t the main tip off that he was an Andalite. The main tip off were definitely the two stalk eyes he had coming out of his head. They were scanning the screens while the Andalite’s human eyes were focused on something in front of him.

“How’s he doing  _ that, _ ” said Marco, imitating the stalk eyes with two of his fingers.

Menderash shrugged. “Small morphing tricks like that can be achieved with patience, time, and practice.”

“Even if you’re not an  _ estreen? _ ” I asked.

“Mostly,” said Menderash. “It is, of course, far easier for someone with such a talent. If he an  _ estreen _ or is not, I do not know, nor do I care.”

We kept walking toward him. He didn’t seem to notice, even with his stalk eyes available. All four of his eyes were focused on screens in front of him. We all waited for a moment, standing politely in a line and looking up at the mad scientist. It probably looked pretty silly. I felt like I was in the Wizard of Oz, gazing at a giant emerald head. Finally, Grass looked right at Menderash. <I am not bothered by harsher displays of human pleasure, but dismemberment is extreme even by  _ your _ standards. I am disgusted. You will remorph before speaking to me.>

“I cannot,” said Menderash, quiet but strong.

Slowly, Grass focused all four of his eyes on Menderash. I watched as Menderash straightened his back and stared back at Grass with defiance, his eyes burning with pride. I felt a deeper respect for him. I had seen him at his worse, twisted up like a marionette in the Andalite hospital. He was defeated and had given up. Now that he was out in the world and showing what he had become to his old allies, he was finding some sort of fire. He was practically daring Grass to reject him.

Which, of course, Grass did. <You fool,> he said, and I  _ felt _ his revulsion and rage. It radiated from him like heat, like sound. Ax had done that to me only once before, after I had made him interrogate Chapman. This rage felt even sharper, somehow. Ax had been furious, but Grass was disgusted.

We all stayed quiet, even Marco. This was a moment between the two of them, and we were alien witnesses. Menderash and Grass burned holes in one another, Grass fighting with pure hot fury, Menderash countering with a quiet pride. Finally, Grass broke his eyes away from Menderash’s form. <Animorphs,> he said, surprised. 

One stalk eye and both his main eyes focused in on Tobias, who shifted uncomfortably. I wondered if he even knew who he was, or if anyone on Andalite knew about Tobias at all. Back on Earth, people focused on myself, Marco, and Cassie, with Rachel only brought up now and then so people could feel distantly sad about a pretty girl they’d never known. Ax was known in a vague way as the Andalite ambassador, and Tobias? Mentioned in passing, if ever. On Andalite, I could only assume Ax was lauded as the hero, with the rest of us humans acting as a supporting cast. I had a feeling they didn’t bring up Tobias at all, if ever. Tobias’s story was hard enough to swallow for humans, nevermind Andalites, for whom the Ellimist was an actual fairytale. It’d be like learning The Three Little Pigs had given a Yeerk the power of sight.

Marco made a vague gesture toward Grass, clearly growing impatient. “Yep,” he said. “We’re Animorphs, and you’re some kind of pissed off but sexy Doc Brown. Menderash is an injured  _ nothlit _ . Tobias is boring and Jake can’t get laid. Anything else we need to establish? No? Good. Look, we found Prince Aximili, and apparently, your government didn’t much like that and took him away again. As we worked  _ very _ hard to get him back the first time, we’re pretty confident we can do a repeat performance. We heard you’ve got connections.” He jerked a thumb toward Menderash. “If you don’t want to deal with him because he’s going to have a rough time putting his hair into a ponytail from now on, then you’re a fucking asshole, but we don’t have time. If you  _ have to _ , talk to me, not him. Where’s Ax.”

Grass didn’t say anything. Slowly, he stepped away from his screens, walking toward Menderash with both his hands behind his back. He wasn’t one of those Andalites that connected well with their human morph. He was more like Tobias; stoic, inscrutable, blank. He closed in on Menderash slowly and carefully and deliberately, like some sort of horror movie ghost.

Menderash remained still, standing as tall as he could. A drop of sweat dripped down from his temple and down his cheek, like a false tear.

<You have destroyed yourself for an arrogant, simple, naive tool of the Electorate. Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill is nothing but a puppet, a shell that follows whatever orders are given to him by which authority he likes best that day.>

“Do not speak of what you do not understand,” hissed Menderash.

Grass laughed, his impassive face hardly moving except for the parting of his lips. <I understand much of Aximili.>

“Prince Aximili,” said Menderash. “Do not insult him.”

Grass laughed again, villainous, dark. He turned and walked back to his screens. <I never revealed myself to you, of course. Revealing my identity to anyone, even the fellow founders, would have been completely moronic. Not all of us are complete fools, Menderash-Postill-Fastill. If  _ this _ is your fate, then know it a kinder and gentler one than the Electorate would have given you when they felt it necessary to make a public show. Your family and your status has never given you immunity. Lirem-Arrepath-Terrouss was simply waiting.>

Menderash stiffened. I took a small risk and put a hand on his shoulder in reassurance. Not everyone appreciates unwelcomed touch, me least of all, but after walking through  _ Voktra _ I had a feeling that Menderash was the sort of person who valued contact. He looked at me and gave me a weak sort of smile.

Grass continued. <Once, I was sent on a trip, as it were, by the military. I was given an opportunity to prove my worth as an innovator and true genius, opportunities that have been handed to  _ you  _ by way of birthright.>

“I never asked for my status,” said Menderash.

Grass’s lips curled in disgust. There was something about him, something about the cadence of his speech and the contents of his story, that was nagging at some place in my memory. I looked at Marco. His expression had fallen from his typical bemused smirk and had become closed off and serious. He was calculating something, piecing things together just as I was, but he had a tendency to be better at it. I caught his eye and he looked at me. I raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged helplessly. He had as much of a clue as I did, but we were both in agreement: something was up with Grass, and we needed to figure it out, fast.

“ _ Voktra _ seeks to alleviate class differences,” continued Menderash. “The Electorate uses our system of community spacecraft construction as a front to punish assenting opinions and culturally disruptive behavior. That is why—”

A stalk eye swung toward Menderash and he stopped in his tracks. His eyes flashed with anger and offense. I think whatever Grass did was the equivalent of holding up a hand to forcefully cut someone off mid-sentence.

<My family is respected,> said Grass. <That was not the issue. I agreed to the trip, because it was the only chance I had ever been given to express my truest art. Because of Aximili, the mission was an unmitigated disaster. When I returned to this planet, I was sent to isolation by the military. I had been permanently tainted by the very mission they had asked me to do. Now, I have been reduced to providing Escafil Devices so that nitwit low borns can enjoy “cinnamon buns,” which are  _ far _ from Earth’s greatest achievement—another idiot move of Aximili’s, by the way. No, I am not inclined to help the  _ Prince, _ > he said, pouring contempt into the word Prince.

“Oh, shit,” whispered Marco. He looked over at Tobias and me. “We’re fucked,” he said.

<Perhaps you are ‘fucked’, perhaps you are not,> said Grass. He walked away from Menderash and walked toward me. Let me tell you, that expressionless face slowly coming straight for you? Not a comfortable feeling. Like Menderash, I didn’t back down. I straightened my shoulders and stared right back at him, preparing for the worst. Then, I realized he wasn’t really coming toward me at all. His eyes were locked in on Tobias, who was shifting frantically on my shoulder. Grass stopped inches away from me, unconcerned with my need for personal space. He pointed all four of his eyes at Tobias. <I would be willing to help in exchange for some cooperation. You are a  _ nothlit, _ correct?> he asked Tobias.

<Uh, yeah,> said Tobias, his feathers getting even puffier.

<And you can morph?> asked Grass.

<It’s a long story, but, um, I can,> said Tobias.

Grass nodded. <Then that means a  _ nothlit _ morphing is possible. If I can figure out how, perhaps the Electorate will be forced to recognize me. I will make you a deal.>

“No,” said Marco. “Mendy, there’s got to be someone else we can ask. What about the other two founders?”

“The Father is stationed on Earth, and works with us to smuggle in Earth pleasures, as well as disrupt unsavory Electorate activities with the humans,” said Menderash with chagrin. “Tree works remotely, specializing in data encryption, spying on the government digitally. She works tirelessly to hide the nightly location of  _ Voktra _ , as well as spread the word. They contact us when it is safe. We do not contact them.”

Marco looked at me. “There has to be another way. Always is, always will be. I don’t trust her,” he said.

“Her?” I said, blinking. And then—“Oh,  _ shit. _ ”

“Yup,” said Marco.

<What?> said Tobias.

Grass took a step back, and then bent backwards, her two arms following her body like ribbons—literal ribbons. Her arms were moving without bone, without muscle. She continued to bend backwards, and backwards, and backwards. Everything about her was going blurred and blue and formless, as if she was going out of focus. He features began to thin and grow more delicate. Then, the rest of her began to solidify, revealing the bottom half of an Andalite body. The top half emerged from her back like someone coming out of water, slow and teasing and revealing. I wasn’t sure if I would call the process beautiful, but it was definitely an awe inspiring technical display. It made all of Cassie’s cool tricks look lame.

When she was done morphing, she looked at Tobias with all four eyes. <I will help you find Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill if _you_ agree to stay on this planet until I can make morphing technology available to all _nothlits_. It is, of course, a noble cause, and if you do not agree, you will both betray your friend and also deny _nothlits_ a life changing opportunity. So you will stay? > said Estrid-Corill-Darrath.

<…Uh,> said Tobias.

Menderash choose that moment to finally collapse.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic attack, drunkenness, alcohol abuse, mentions of rope bondage


	9. Tobias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings in end notes.

Both Jake and I saw Menderash waver at the same time. Jake lurched forward to catch him, and I jumped off of Jake’s shoulder so that my weight wouldn’t put him off balance. I landed on a nearby screen. I dug my talons in a little harder than I needed to, hoping I permanently scratched something. Estrid watched us impassively, not moving a muscle to help.

Marco looked at Menderash with concern, which was almost shocking. He hadn’t acted with any sort of compassion for another being since he stepped foot on this damn planet. He shook his head with a mix of exasperation and anger, then started walking toward Estrid. “If real humans are invited to this batshit circus, then  _ someone _ around here knows a thing or two about our biology, because there’s no way some fifty-year-old politician gets access to this amount of debauchery and  _ doesn’t _ end up with a good old fashioned overdose—and there’s no way you guys would let him die, seeing how the political aftermath would be  _ insane. _ You have human first aid, and it’s probably even better than what we’ve got back home.” Marco gestured broadly toward Menderash. “Get him help.”

<Of course I have human medicines,> said Estrid. <But he is a  _ vecol.  _ There is little point in aiding him.>

Marco stepped forward again, his hands bubbling and bulging out. “If you say  _ vecol _ one more time—” 

Jake laid Menderash down and then checked his pulse. “Marco, chill,” he said, as an afterthought more than anything. Still, Marco dutifully reversed his morph, glaring at Estrid. Jake looked up at her. “He’s barely breathing. Look, the two of you helped spearhead this whole movement together. That has to be worth more than your hang ups about his body.”

Estrid shifted her weight dramatically, almost walking in place. Ax used to do that when he was anxious about something. I started to believe Estrid might do the decent thing, but then she stilled, and looked at me with all four eyes again. <Do you agree to my terms, small bird?>

My feathers stood on end. <Look, I’m going to need more than thirty seconds to decide if I’m going to up and move planets! That’s a really big decision!>

Marco snorted. “Is it? What are you going to miss, your favorite kind old oak tree? Did you have some kind of wise cracking squirrel sidekick? Were there musical numbers in the woods?”

My muscles tensed and I just barely managed to swallow a screech. I knew Marco pretty well, and I knew that he lashed out when he was stressed, which everyone was expected to just deal with and not ever hold him accountable for. I guess the fact he was worried about Menderash was good, but I really didn’t need pressure from him right now. 

Yeah, on paper, this was a pretty cut and dry decision. Technically, I had more family on Andalite than I did on Earth, though they didn’t want me around at all. Not that that was much different from usual. I had good prey to hunt. Assuming Ax hadn’t broken some big Andalite law and had to escape to Earth or something, I could hang out with him. And Estrid was right—I  _ could _ morph, and that  _ did _ mean it was somehow possible. I had been a real  _ nothlit _ for almost a year, and that year was lonely and strange and painful. Getting the ability to morph really changed my life for the better, even if it also made it more difficult in a lot of ways. What if Estrid and I  _ could  _ make a breakthrough? What if we could help other  _ nothlits? _ What if that was the real reason the Ellimist had given me my powers back as a hawk, instead of letting me reset as a human?

It was simple. It was obvious. It was a done deal. I could stay here. I could help people. I would have a good life. 

Maybe Noorlin and Forlay would come around to me. Maybe Estrid and I would end up getting along, though she was currently making a pretty terrible case against herself. 

Marco was looking at me expectantly. Jake was wearing a carefully blank expression, which meant he had an opinion on the situation, but he was suppressing his real feelings in favor of being diplomatic. I’m sure he agreed with Marco, like he so often did. Both of them were fans of the cleanest solution, even if it screwed someone over. Was it really screwing me over, though? 

When Marco lashed out, he tended to lash out with the truth.

I tried to kill myself after just a few weeks in my hawk body. My friends stopped me. I don’t think it’s a stretch to assume other  _ nothlits _ have tried the same thing, nor is it a stretch to believe not all of their friends got to them in time. If Estrid could figure out why I can morph when other  _ nothlits _ can’t, I’d literally be saving lives.

I had nothing back on Earth.

It was easy. It was so easy. The decision was already made. And yet—

I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t pull the trigger. Whenever I thought about staying with Estrid, I—

There was a whiteness at the edge of my vision that was slowly taking over and sound started to come out of sync with reality. I focused on a feather, preening it in the same place over and over. Sometimes, those hallucination-flashback things came on so quickly I couldn’t do a thing about them. Sometimes I could control it a little. Whatever my brain wanted to tell me could wait.

I heard Jake sigh through the haze. “Look, Menderash needs help, now, but Tobias needs time. Let’s compromise a little, okay? How about this. Help out Menderash, and Tobias will give you some of his blood to study. If, of course, he’s willing. Tobias?”

Jake gave me a look. It was the kind of look that meant I didn’t really have a choice. I stopped preening, confident that I was centered. <Yeah, sure. Whatever.>

Before I knew it, Estrid was poking me with a needle. I couldn’t help it, I squeaked at her. Marco laughed. Estrid set aside the filled syringe on a shelf, and then immediately pulled out an even bigger one. I flapped my wings at her. <Hey! I still need  _ most _ of my blood!>

<I do not understand your trepidation,> said Estrid airily. <You can morph.>

<Help Menderash first,> I said, growing more and more irritated. <Then we can negotiate my voluntary fatal blood loss.>

Estrid considered me for a moment, and then she walked away. She reached into a shelf and pulled out some kind of container. <Force him upright,> she said. <I cannot reach him on the ground, and I refuse to kneel for a  _ vecol _ .>

Jake pulled up Menderash while Marco threw a string of verbal abuse at Estrid, none of which seemed to bother her. Estrid pressed all manner of things against Menderash, all of which made him cry out. In time, he was sitting on his own, bewildered and groggy but looking much less pale. Estrid had even gotten him water from somewhere, which was in a shallow bowl rather than a proper glass. As awkward as that was for a human, he was drinking as if it were the lifestream itself.

Menderash looked at Jake. “Did he tell us how to find Aximili?” He glanced over at Estrid. “Or, well, she. I suppose that is what you struggle against for recognition.”

<I am expected to do nothing but pretty maths or basic biologies,> said Estrid. <No one would listen to my plintconarhythmic theories due to my gender. It ruined me.>

“That is not my fault,” said Menderash.

<Yet you do nothing publicly to elevate females,> said Estrid. <At least Aximili made a show of supporting female  _ arisths _ , even if his incompetence as a ship’s captain lead to the loss of three of our brightest.>

“He is  _ not _ incompetent,” said Menderash, almost growling the words. Jake held up a hand.

“Look, guys, this is kind of a time sensitive situation,” he said, his fingers twitching by his side. It was a new tic of his, something I think meant he wanted a cigarette. He’d been trying to hide the habit on the ship, but it was hard to hide anything when you’re confined together for six months. “Estrid, is there anything else we can give you?  _ Anything? _ ”

Estrid looked at me with one stalk eye. <I have made my request.>

Everyone looked at me. It made me feel giant, like their eyes were forcing me to grow too big, too fast. I felt like I was a blemish, an eye sore, a sour note in an otherwise flawless symphony. I didn’t like it when people looked at me.

<It’s just …> I said, trailing off as I realized I had no idea how to word what I was feeling. Marco repeated my words in a nasal, mocking tone. Jake looked at me patiently.

I took a deep breath and I looked at Estrid. I reached down, deep inside, grabbing at places inside me I tried so hard not to connect to. Longing, loneliness, fear, desire, all repressed by years of isolation. I connected with all the mourning I had set aside. I connected with the joy I felt flying higher than I should. I found all these things, and I wrapped them in a box, and I “sent” them to Estrid. Just as Elfangor had done for me, so long ago. Just as Noorlin had done for me earlier today.

Estrid stumbled backwards as if she had been struck. She looked at me with all four eyes, then shifted her weight again, this time faster and more nervous. I don’t know how inappropriate it was in Andalite culture to share like that, and I didn’t care. She needed to know how I felt. She needed to understand me.

<It’s complicated,> I said softly. <Please. I just want some time.>

Estrid was silent for a moment, and then she drew her body language back up to her standard haughty stance. <Aximili is held at the Illeriphan base. He is quarantined with other humans the Animorphs brought.> She glanced at me again, as if she was surprised I was still in the room. <I have decided to tell you this in good faith. I grant your request for time, small bird, because I already know your decision. We both know it is right and moral for you to stay with me.>

“Wow,” said Marco. “That was almost halfway decent. Maybe she’s a real girl after all!”

<As I have extended kindness to you, I believe I deserve more blood now,> said Estrid.

“Well,” said Marco. “You tried.”

“Do you know why they’re quarantined?” asked Jake.

<Obviously not,> said Estrid. <Otherwise I would have provided that information.>

“It probably has something to do with The One,” said Marco. “But that doesn’t explain why the took Jeanne and Santorelli, too. Unless—”

“Unless it has something to do with all of Kelbrid space,” finished Jake slowly.

Marco and Jake caught each other’s eyes. They stared at each other as if they were using thought-speak, even though I know they couldn’t. Slowly, they both looked at Menderash. 

“You went  _ nothlit _ faster than I went down on Lance Bass,” said Marco. “I’ve always wondered why you did that instead of, like, dedicating yourself to standing slightly to the left of the communication screens.”

Menderash looked down.

“You know something,” said Jake.

Estrid made a snorting sound through her nose, which made Menderash tense and look up at her with disgust. I always did have a feeling that noise was incredibly rude to Andalites, even though Ax made it all the time. I think it was his ‘fuck.’ <If anyone knows about Kelbrid space, it is Menderash-Postill-Fastill. His direct ancestors were on the forefront of the Kelbrid war, after all. What was it your people invented? Some new little war toy that destroyed ships on a whim? That seems to be the only goal of your lineage.>

Menderash glared at Estrid. “We invented energy tractor beams, allowing our ships to pull each other out of harm’s way. Hardly a weapon.”

Estrid only ignored him, making a show of staring at her screens again.

Jake knelt down next to Menderash, looking at him with an openness I knew was hiding Jake’s inner calculations. “What can you tell us?” he asked.

Menderash looked up at Jake, then sipped from his too big bowl of water. “She must leave,” he said, indicating Estrid.

<She will not,> said Estrid.

Jake shifted his weight, allowing him to get a little closer to Menderash’s ear. I knew for a fact neither human nor Andalite ears could hear what he said to Menderash, but I could. “It’s for Ax,” said Jake.

Menderash hesitated and stared at his water. He took a deep, shaking breath, and drank from it once again. When he spoke, his tone was unwavering and sure, but his apprehension showed plain on his face. “The Kelbrids truly were an aggressive, war-hungry species. They attacked Andalite many times, all for the joy of it. Our technology was not as advanced as it is now. We were space faring, yes, but our ships could not hold up to Kelbrid weaponry. At every encounter, the Kelbrids won. This made us easy targets.”

Marco barked a laugh. “Oh yeah,” he said. “That’s not propaganda at  _ all. _ Poor little Andalites, pig cops of the galaxy, getting all beat up by a big bad bully,” he said, pouting the words out so that bully became ‘buwwie.’ “My ass.”

“I am the first Andalite to speak against our actions,” said Menderash, “But this is not propaganda. When I returned to Andalite after the events on the Intrepid, I studied the Kelbrids,” he said. “I watched every recording, read every report, listened to every debrief. My capacities were called into question. I only escaped mental evaluation by virtue of my—”

<Immunity due to family status and bias,> sneered Estrid.

“No,” said Menderash, glaring at Estrid. “By virtue of my relationship to Aximili. The obsession was seen as grief.”

<Your ‘grief’ was the sole topic of gossip for  _ days _ . You had made yourself Aximili’s plaything, and when he was gone, you mourned with comforting fantasies and nonsense theories.>

“He spoke to me!” said Menderash, his voice getting louder than I ever heard it. “Through our bond! I have proof! I have  _ him!” _

Menderash’s skin was flushed with passion and heat. For a moment, he looked like a starlet in a summer blockbuster, full of vindication and romance. It was a pretty scene, until Marco interrupted with a loud and exaggerated, “OH!” 

Everyone turned to look at him. He looked back at everyone one by one, apparently just as surprised as we were at his noise. He pointed at Menderash. “I just figured it all out!  _ You’re _ the reason Ax kept flaking on me, huh? Why he always had to go to Las Vegas or Disneyworld or ‘the ocean’ with his ‘diplomats.’ I knew there were no diplomats. I told him, I said, Ax—”

“Marco?” said Jake.

“Yeah?”

“Focus.”

“Right.” Marco made a bowing motion to Menderash. “Continue, Mr. Esgarrouth-Isthill.”

Menderash shook his head, but got back to his story. “When I ran out of public information, I turned to more restricted documents. I used my father’s access codes, which allowed me to see anything I wanted. What I found was disturbing.”

“How so?” asked Jake.

Menderash swallowed. “There is no treaty with the Kelbrids. The Kelbrids have been extinct for hundreds of years.”

Menderash paused, as if he expected some sort of pin drop silence. Instead, he got a raised eyebrow from Jake. “Well,” he said, “I guess I owe you twenty bucks, Tobias.”

<Cough up,> I said, stretching out a talon. Jake grinned.

“Money is useless on a spaceship,” said Marco. “Santo owes me his shower time for five days. Nonconsecutive, of course.”

Menderash looked frustrated at our lack of surprise until Estrid chimed in with the reaction he had expected. <There are entire galactic regions that we left vulnerable to the Yeerks for  _ no reason? _ > she asked, shocked and appalled. 

“No,” said Menderash quietly. “There is a reason.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then sort of stumbled his way to a nearby table. He leaned against it like it was a crutch. He looked toward Jake and Marco. “My body feels physically weakened when I am overcome with emotions. Is this common?”

They looked at each other, silently communicating something. “Yeah,” said Jake. “It’s part of our design.”

Menderash closed his eyes and nodded. “Fine,” he said. He opened his eyes and took one deep, shaking breath. “I do not condone what my people did on the Hork-Bajir planet. Aximili has told me what Andalites nearly did to Earth, and the thought sickens me. However, when we set the precedent for these behaviors, we were truly in a dire situation. The Kelbrid did not merely hunt us, they  _ toyed _ with us. When our translators intercepted their transmissions we always found them laughing. They would make little rules and challenges among each other, the way Andalites do while tail fighting as children. Our planet was entertainment. They would have destroyed all our ships, all our advancements and accomplishments, if we did not outsmart them. So, we sent in fighters on a kamikaze mission. They broke into the Kelbrid atmosphere, and Kelbrids destroyed them— but not before our fighters dumped deadly airborne toxins on every great Kelbrid city.”

This time, Menderash got the pin drop silence he deserved.

No one moved. I felt an inner wildness, like I was trapped inside and screaming. It wasn’t that the news meant anything to me, or changed the way I live my life. It’s not that I knew the Kelbrids and mourned them. It was the reminder of the Andalites, and what lay beating beneath the blood red sky. The Andalites were ruthless and cruel. They had achieved their galactic dominance with rotted flesh and putrid meat and mucus and bile and blood. They fought dirty and walked away from the mess, brushing off their fur and claiming sainthood. They were dangerous and arrogant, and could turn on us at any moment. They already had a biological weapon prepped and ready to use against Yeerks, one that could potentially destroy their human hosts. How easy would it be to tweak the formula? They gave us technology; we gave them cinnamon. We play acted at equality, but we knew it was a charade. Even in the woods I heard whispers of Andalite control. I shivered.

The only one who did not seem disturbed was Estrid.

I suddenly grew aware of my feathers, feeling as if each individual piece was pricking my skin.

Could I really stay on this planet with her?

Marco broke the tension. “You guys are so fucking cheap.”

“We did what we had to do,” said Menderash.

“It was done,” said Jake quietly. “Nothing can change that.”

Estrid’s tail flicked back and forth, and she fidgeted on her hooves. <The field of plintconarhythmic physics was nascent in that era. There is no way we could have safely created a biochemical weapon without that knowledge.>

“Correct,” said Menderash. “We were not ready to play with such weaponry. We paid for it, dearly. After the deed was done, a fleet was sent from Andalite to the Kelbrid planet with the intent to mine for resources. That fleet was doomed. The virus was designed to kill Kelbrids, yes, but we did not spend enough time testing and researching potential side effects. There were a few thousand surviving Kelbrids due to a natural immunity, and the virus mutated inside them. It became something that was more like a parasite. We will never truly know what it was, as it is impossible to study. The parasite spread through the entire fleet in minutes, and it did not spare a single Andalite.”

Menderash closed his eyes and leaned back against the table, resting his weight on his arms. He had always looked heavy and world weary, but in this moment, he almost looked as old as Jake. “They didn’t know they were infected,” he said quietly. “There was no indication that something was spreading. The fleet proceeded unimpeded until, one by one, each Andalite’s  _ agla _ burst as if it were a weapon fired from the inside.” Menderash looked toward the Animorphs. “In an Andalite, the  _ agla _ performed essential processes to get air to our lungs. It is located here,” he said, indicating his mouth. I saw red rimmed teeth and smelled rancid oil and sticky sweet rot. I shivered. Menderash looked down at his hands. “I have seen the recordings. Watching them was—” Menderash’s voice broke and his face screwed into anguish. Tears fell from each eye with a surprising suddenness. Menderash’s pain showed open and honest on his face for an uncomfortably long moment, but he eventually gathered himself and wiped his face dry. “I apologize,” he said, his voice tear choked. “I forget about that.” 

“Take your time,” said Jake softly.

Menderash took a deep breath and continued. “When an  _ agla _ is destroyed, death is imminent. Yet, somehow, these Andalites remained standing. In the recordings, they move with a stiff, jerking motion, as if they are being controlled by an outside force. The infected Andalites began to destroy anything in their path, including all remaining Kelbrids, for seemingly no reason. We only have footage because all military feeds are streamed back on Homeworld through Z-space. I will never watch them again.”

“You won’t have to,” said Jake.

Menderash took another shaking breath. “We fled from the Kelbrid planet. We calculated how far their ships could last without returning to their planet to refuel, and we called that Kelbrid space. We spoke of a treaty, to give even the most adventurous Andalites a reason not to explore. This was no victory for our people. This was only the grit of war matting our fur.”

“No shit,” said Marco. “I wouldn’t want to brag about it either. So that explains the whole  _ nothlit _ thing.”

Menderash nodded. “The infected Andalites did not die when they ought to have died. Perhaps they could be alive to this day, carrying the virus that would destroy my real body. I could also come in contact with a surviving Kelbrid tribe that carried the parasite, or find it waiting in some other alien in Kelbrid space. Being an Andalite was too much risk, and I had always enjoyed being human. I have found the experience to be…  _ quite _ different as a permanent form.”

<Buyers remorse, right?> I said, trying to lighten the mood. Menderash looked at me like I said something incredibly stupid, which is how he always looked at me. We don’t exactly have  _ nothlit _ solidarity. I can morph, he can’t. We’re not in the same category.

I looked at Estrid. She was no longer twitching. She was statue still. You could  _ feel _ fury radiating off of her.

<You knew all this,> she said, her expression uncomfortably flat above the rolling rage we all felt beneath the words, <And yet you brought Aximili onto our planet?>

Menderash glared back. “There were only human-Controllers on the Blade ship. I saw no Kelbrids on their communication screens, no unfamiliar aliens. The military must have found something they could not identify on  _ The Rachel _ and are now overreacting simply because the ship had been in Kelbrid space at all.”

<I find  _ nothing  _ about that to be an overreaction!> said Estrid.

<Menderash doesn’t know about The One,> I said to Jake and Marco privately. <He’s been out of it ever since the attack. I mean, maybe the two aren’t related, but maybe they are. No one has died yet, but we still need to get Ax off this planet, _ now _ . >

Jake and Marco looked at each other, their eyes locked, their face muscles twitching with various unspoken communications. Even through it all, they’d remained close. I even knew they had lived basically next door to each other back on Earth. No, it wasn’t a perfect friendship. Their relationship was  _ really _ strained. Marco lost patience with Jake faster than he did with anyone else, and Jake never bothered to stand by Marco when he could clearly use a friend. Still, they had something that ran deep, way deeper than any other bond between Animorphs. Maybe Ax and I could have gotten there, but I’d messed that up. I’d messed up a lot of things.

I felt a pang of — not regret, not really, and not jealousy. I guess it was a sort of wistfulness. I started imagining myself spending time with Jake and Marco, maybe settling down in a house between the two of theirs. I saw myself as human, maybe two years into being a  _ nothlit,  _ older and studier and not so thin. Maybe I’d have the sort of rock star long hair I always wanted, and I’d tie in back in one sleek blonde ponytail. Maybe I could have done the whole Robert Smith thing and wore eyeliner and black nail polish. I could never pull it off, not really, but it wouldn’t matter; no one would tell an Animorph that their rough and pockmarked skin was too ugly for makeup, that their awkward and large nose made the mascara just look desperate. I could get piercings. If I had stayed in Santa Barbara gone  _ nothlit _ , I could have had a whole closet full of whatever I wanted, filled with motorcycle jackets and distressed jeans. Marco and I would have hung out with Ax whenever he was on Earth and we could have done all the things we used to talk about, like going to Universal Studios or letting Ax lose at a Vegas buffet. Maybe we’d have had dinners with Cassie. Maybe that would have made Jake come out of his room.

Maybe.

It was a nice daydream, just like looking at all those Andalite homes. I wouldn’t have been able to handle that sort of life, and I knew that. There was no point in feeling jealousy over their half-spoken conversations, their thought-speech without thought-speech. Staying with them wouldn’t have really worked for me, so I would just watch them, and wait for them to figure out our next step.

I would just be outside of them, like I always was, like I always would be.

Estrid’s lab didn’t exactly feel like home, but nothing else ever had. I might as well stay here, and help out people like Menderash.

I might as well.

“If Ax is infected with something, then we’re already too late,” said Jake. “We’ll get him off the planet all the same, just in case. How can we break into this elly— early—”

<Illeriphan,> said Estrid. <It is the most secure military base in the galaxy. It is where we keep our prisoners of war, and it is impossible to enter without permission. It would be best to offer to take him off planet, and remove all chances of infection.>

“Something tells me asking politely isn’t in the stars,” said Marco. “If they’re panicked enough to straight up kidnap three of our best and brightest, then they’re too panicked to negotiate. We’ll break in. We’re used to it.”

“It is very easy to infiltrate spaces that do not expect people to morph,” said Menderash. “However, there is anti-morphing technology in every corner of Illeriphan.”

Jake nodded thoughtfully. “Okay,” he said. “They expect morphing. What don’t they expect?” 

“The Spanish In—”

“Don’t,” said Jake, holding a hand up to Marco.

<Do you want me to go check things out?> I asked, and I was surprised to find I hoped he said yes. 

Unfortunately, Menderash shook his head. “Even if you were to acquire a homeworld morph, they would simply shoot you down. We are prepared for morph-capable intruders. There have been, ah, incidents.”

Marco and Jake turned inward and quiet, piecing things together. “Can we go small?” asked Marco.

“Perhaps,” said Menderash. “The Animorphs’ use of insect morphs is still being processed by our intelligence. However, if one were able to break in, I hope they greatly enjoyed the form they were in,” he said, sounding more than a little bitter. “Remember, the facility will be outfitted with the latest in anti-morphing technology, which has grown ever more sophisticated since we allowed Escafil Devices on Earth.”

Marco and Jake looked at each other.

“So we don’t morph,” said Jake.

“Right,” said Marco. “So we’re going to try and break into the space Pentagon without using our one and  _ only _ advantage, in order to rescue our friend who we literally  _ just _ rescued, who got our other friends captured by association? And if we’re caught, they’ll capture us too, and treat us like that creepy neighbor kid treated his dolls in Toy Story?”

<His name was Sid,> I said.

“Helpful,” said Marco.

Jake shrugged. “I think we can do it.”

“That’s because you’re insane,” said Marco.

Jake grinned. “It’s been a while since you called me that,” said Jake.

“It’s been a while since you leaped into death’s waiting arms, giggling like a blushing bride,” said Marco. “Well, except for that one time six months ago when you said ‘hey Marco, I’m going to go on a thrill ride of death, wanna come?’ and I said yes, like a moron.”

“We’re still here,” said Jake.

<Must you discuss this here?> said Estrid. <I have much work to do. Your foolish notion of breaking into Illeriphan is entertaining, but distracting.>

“We could use your help,” said Jake quietly.

<Many people could use my help,> said Estrid. <I rarely offer it.>

Jake cast a quick glance at me. I knew what it meant. Maybe we did still have some connection after all. <My blood isn’t much use to you if it’s stuck in some military compound. Do you want to help other  _ nothlits _ , or do you want to leave that discovery up to whoever finds me in Illeriphan?>

She turned a stalk eye at me and I got a wave of very distinct anger.

<I’m just saying,> I said.

Estrid didn’t reply, but she also didn’t kick us all out. I think that was good.

“So we’re humans,” said Jake. “As humans, what have we noticed about Andalites? About this planet?”

<I met a bird,> I said. <He was a big jerk.>

“Just the one bird?” said Jake, raising an eyebrow at me. “You were out flying for a while.”

<I just saw the one guy,> I said. <And  _ just _ him. He didn’t have a family or anything. He was alone against an endless red sky. Oh, and I ate some kind of alien rabbit-mouse-mole. And uh. That’s it. I guess there’s a reason Ax was always so overwhelmed by all the animals we have back on Earth.>

Marco nodded thoughtfully. “It makes things really quiet. This whole place feels like the world’s biggest library.”

<Homeworld is the most peaceful planet in all the universe,> said Estrid, sounding offended.

Menderash rolled his eyes. “Because our ancestors wiped out entire species for nothing more than comfort. Yes, we were prey animals, but we were intelligent prey animals, and learned how to use tools and protect ourselves with technology. There was no need to wipe out our predators. This eventually led to the rise of the Electorate, which—”

“Calm down, Sinead O’Conner,” said Marco.

“I do not understand you,” said Menderash. “I never understand you.”

“You know,” said Marco slowly, “I’ve actually gotten a couple of requests to repeat myself, and not always because of my gift of quick association. It’s like speaking at any volume below ‘indoor voice’ is hard to hear for Andalites.”

<I morphed Andalite,> I said. <I thought the hearing was pretty bad, but I  _ am _ used to hawk hearing.>

“Human hearing is not  _ vastly  _ superior to Andalites’,” said Menderash reluctantly, “But it has it’s time and place.”

“Let me translate that,” said Marco. “Human hearing rules, Andalite hearing drools.”

Jake nodded thoughtfully, listening to all of our observations and connecting them together in the careful way he always had. “They are prey animals who rely on their stalk eyes to spot their enemies, thus eliminating the need for sophisticated hearing. They use thought-speak for communication, not their ears. They value silence and have difficulty dealing with more than one sound at a time.”

“Ax always did hate music,” said Marco. “Maybe that’s not just an Ax thing.” 

Jake nodded. “They don’t  _ depend _ on their hearing for awareness. It’s there, but it’s a back-up mechanism rather than a first defense. That’s what we can use.”

“How,” said Menderash, who had placed his arm on his hip. He looked incredibly annoyed that Jake had found an undisputed Andalite weakness.

“Oh,” said Marco, talking slowly. “I think I know how.”

“You have a plan?” asked Jake.

“I have a plan.”

“Is it a good one?”

“Nope.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“Yep.”

“Should it be attempted by anyone with even half a sense of self preservation?”

“Not at all.”

“Good,” said Jake.

And then it was there, and we all felt it; stuck in our minds and throats, the ghost of it in our ears, the cadence and pattern of sound so immediate and familiar that the absence of it was felt with heaviness. Someone had to fill the space, to hurry and say it before grief settled in, and I wanted it to be me because I had loved her, and she had loved me.

<Let’s do it,> I said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains discussions of war crimes and violence that are at canon level but since canon level in this fandom is VERY BAD, be forewarned.


	10. Aximili

 

I have been inside Illeriphan many times. The first was when I was very young, to watch Elfangor’s prince ceremony. I had little awareness of the event, and my most vivid memory of the day is tail fighting with other young children. The second time was when I arrived on homeworld after my long, long time on Earth. I had made a hasty decision to return, fueled by exhaustion and instability, and I remember even less of that particular visit. I next came to Illeriphan for my own Prince ceremony, which I, unfortunately, remember with clarity. It was long, and tedious, and I disliked the attention of so many eyes focused on me. I am not shy in front of crowds, but by that point I had heard enough whispers about my promotion to know many soldiers did not think I had truly earned my title. I did not know which eyes watched in awe and which watched in disgust. It was an ugly feeling.

Since then, I have returned many, many times on official business. Visiting Illeriphan has lost all sense of occasion. It is a place where I arrive, and a place where I leave. My visits blur together. It is all boring routine.

And then I was thrown in a locked field with the bare necessities of a scoop and told to remain quiet. This made Illeriphan a new and interesting experience once again. Andalites were not nearly as barbaric as humans, and our prisons were comfortable, but this was still no luxury quarters. All of my questions were ignored. Eventually, I stopped asking them.

Some time later, the two unfamiliar crew members of the _Rachel_ were placed with me. They looked as upset and angry as I felt, though far less resigned to it. Once the field’s hologram had replaced the metal door with a false semblance of sky, the one called Vincent Santorelli shouted and kicked at the “empty” space. Jeanne Gerard watched him with a blank expression.

<Welcome,> I said to them both. They turned to me in unison. I performed a human “shrug.” <Your guess is as good as mine,> I said dryly.

That was not entirely true. I had some sort of insidious creature inside of me that was capable of controlling my body. I supposed that was why I was in this room. Why they added Jeanne Gerard and Vincent Santorelli was a bigger mystery.

Jeanne Gerard let out a long sigh, then started muttering under her breath in a non-English human language. I am not sure she knew I have a galactic translator implant. This language was “French,” and it had been added into the translation database after homeworld negotiations with Earth began in earnest, which meant I did not have to wait for the translator to pick up the language. I understood everything she said immediately, and it was quite, quite lewd. Out of respect, I did not respond to her aggression. She was processing many things.

Eventually, she calmed down, and sat down next to a tree. Vincent Santorelli followed her and placed his head on her shoulder. She responded in turn. It was a move I had seen many times in _The Young And The Restless._ <Are the two of you romantic partners?> I asked.

“No,” they replied as one.

I gave them their space all the same. I found a peaceful corner of the prison and slept.

Hours later, the door to our cell opened up. Prince Jake, Marco, Tobias, and Menderash were pushed inside. The Andalites followed, likely as a safety measure. The humans and Menderash were not restrained, as there was no need. They all knew intimately that an Andalite would destroy them before they could run. Tobias was chained to a weight, which was held with some effort by an Andalite soldier I didn’t quite recognize. Tobias was stoic and brave until he was unable to fly, and I knew this must be a unique form of torture for him. To his credit, Tobias was quite calm. Far too calm. So calm that I was beginning to worry.

<Welcome,> I said. <I’m afraid the accommodations at my new scoop are quite lacking. Forgive me, I have just moved in.>

Marco laughed a little. Prince Jake gave a small smile and nodded. Tobias remained still and unmoving.

<This is not your scoop, Prince Aximili,> said a soldier, very respectfully, with some worry behind his words. I suppressed a sigh.

<Of course not, warrior,> I said. <I am speaking to my human comrades, and employing the human concept of sarcasm. I am aware this is not our scoop but, rather, a space much more often used for prisoners.>

<You are not imprisoned,> said a second Andalite. I did know him. He was Prince Dramestal, a prince who did not publicly support me, but neither did he antagonize me. That is all I ask. <We found trace amounts of a worrying substance in your ship’s atmosphere and we have decided to temporarily detain you for your safety.>

“Which you did, gently, with affable coercion and amiable menace,” said Marco.

<We did not harm any of you,> said a warrior.

“Sweet intimidation,” continued Marco. “Like if Mr. Rogers took you to the other side of the neighborhood tracks and showed you what happened to those who disrespect King Friday.”

I went toward Menderash, who had hardly moved. <Todd Johnson has been through great physical trauma,> I said. <He ought to be resting.>

Prince Dramestal smiled. <There is no Todd Johnson,> he said triumphantly. <That is Menderash-Postill-Fastill, and you have lied to the military. When we are done… ensuring you are safe from the potential poisons we found in the _Rachel_ , you will face a trial.>

“I am sorry,” said Menderash quietly.

<Don’t be,> I said to him privately. <You have saved me from an evil thing, and I will stand trial for you again and again.>

Menderash smiled faintly.

<Please sit down, Menderash,> I said, this time projecting my thought speak to all. <I am concerned for your health.>

Jake looked toward the warriors. “He hasn’t been doing well,” he said, his tone steady in spite of the situation. “If there is any comfort you could give him, it would be appreciated.” It had been some time since I’d seen that quality in him. He used to use that tact to calm Marco and Rachel in the barn. It was refreshing to hear it again.

The Andalite soldiers looked at each other. I watched as Menderash stumbled backwards, toward the door. He held his forehead in his hand and groaned. It was almost as if he were exaggerating for sympathy, a ruse Marco would have humorously attempted at any small physical “injury.” My hearts beat quicker. Perhaps the Animorphs had a plan.

Prince Dramestal watched Menderash, then looked toward one of his warriors. “ _Aristh_ Rathoen, please speak to the Earth embassy and procure some Tylenol.”

“Yes,” said Marco gravely. “Tylenol.”

“Ancient nectar of the Gods,” said Vincent Santorelli.

“A powerful substance,” said Marco. “Humanity’s greatest achievement.”

“The balm of Gilead itself.”

<Is the substance truly that powerful?> said Prince Dramestal. <It was my understanding that the medicine was a simple painkiller.>

<It is,> I said. <The humans are joking, as Tylenol is far too weak a drug to treat a newly amputated limb.>

The Prince raised his tail in offense. He looked at Marco and Vincent Santorelli with his main eyes. <Please do not mock me for not having every aspect of humanity memorized. Most Andalites do not prefer humans to their own species,> he said, an eye stalk landing on me.

<Of course, any human is preferable to an Andalite that fell upwards in rank simply because a certain War-Prince has a fondness for delicate blades,> I said demurely.

It was a mistake. The prince looked at me with his left stalk eye, a _direct_ insult. He turned to leave.  <Menderash gets nothing,> he said stiffly. <He got himself into this situation, and he will get himself out.>

The door opened. The Andalites started walking toward it.

“Go,” said Jake.

Menderash stopped wavering and reached into his sleeve. He brought out a small device and threw it on the ground.

<What is _that_? > asked the Prince, full of derision. He turned back toward the room. As he did, a plume of smoke erupted, filling up the prison in seconds.

The effect was disorientating.

My eyes burned with the smoke, each set in unique ways. My front eyes are able to close, protecting them from errant fur pieces or winds that my stalk eyes can simply turn away from, but the feel of smoke against my eyelids was a maddening itch all the same. I wished that I had a second pair of eyelids in order to protect then even more _._ My stalk eyes burned with a new sort of pain, a dryness beyond dryness, as if they had turned to sand. I could not escape from the smoke, and no position I could take would alleviate the constant barrage of ash. My lungs began to fill with it, and breathing became difficult and labored.

The pain was pleasant compared to the feeling of blindness.

I have existed without sight on many occasions. I have been Earth insects, Earth ground creatures, Earth sea creatures, even multiple humans, all of which had limited sight compared to an Andalite. However, each of those creatures had senses that somewhat made up for their limitation. In my natural form, I had no way to compensate. None of my past history of morphing could have prepared me for this, this feeling of disconnect from myself, from my reality, from my world and my senses.

I began wheezing, then convulsed as my lungs attempted to clear themselves of irritant. Listening to myself and the other Andalites cough was disgusting, but that was not the most annoying sound in the room.

Marco was talking.

“Welcome to the Animorph’s Great Escape 2002! Is it our dumbest plan? Maybe. Could be. Probably is. But what’s a space adventure without a hare-brained scheme that only has about a two percent chance of working!” he said, babbling at a frightening speed, as was customary for him. He sounded slightly muffled. The humans must have brought along breathing aids for themselves, which my people have in abundance due to our cultural taboo on all respiratory noise. “That would be a _boring_ space adventure. Though, you know, on my day to day, I prefer boring. You know what’s boring? Lying in a hotel suite, a woman by your side, drinking champagne and watching bad TV. Or maybe even good TV, and discussing it. Analyzing it, even. That happens. Would you believe that a lot of the girls I pick up tend to be pretty clever? Floozies are smart as hell. Who knew? I didn’t, and that’s on me. That’s my bad. That’s me buying into institutionalized misogyny. A floozy taught me that. The boys I bring back are always dumb, though. Society really has it backwards..”

Listening to Marco speak was maddening. It was hard to separate his words from the noise of the other Andalites. Homeworld is a quiet place with few distractions, and Andalites did not evolve to prioritize one sound over another. I had learned to do it back on Earth, but it was always something of a struggle.

My sight being compromised was pushing down all I had learned on while stranded, taking my hard-earned skill and robbing it from me. I had rarely been in a situation where someone was talking to me audibly while I could not see. The strangeness of it made me feel ill in my stomach, and my hearts began beating rapidly. It did not help that the Andalites were speaking as well. A chorus of <What is —> and <Where is —> and vile Andalite curses were cascading through me. It felt physical, like Marco and the Andalites were weights that rolled back and forth through my head like marbles.

Marco coughed, which did not surprise me. Respiratory masks were useful, but not infallible, and he had not stopped talking since the smoke bombs went off. “Hey, Santo, my man, care to help me out by making some noise? Give us a song, you’re the piano man!”

Vincent Santorelli’s voice came in strong, performing the human act of singing. It was somewhat more pleasing than the singing I have heard in the past, but modulating a voice to perform different pitches loudly will never be a pleasant thing. He, too, sounded muffled. He must have also procured a breathing mask. If they had them, where was mine? My lungs burned with panic and smoke; my eyes burned with pain and soot.

“I Will Survive? A little on the nose, man, but hey, it’s a classic. How do you guys like this? Feeling nice and centered? Are you totally aware of where you are right now? Hey Jeanne, go ahead and tell us a story in French. Let’s make those fancy translators work on overtime.”

She did as asked, spewing a litany of insults toward my people, Prince Jake, Menderash, and Marco. I would have otherwise been offended on behalf of my friends, but Marco had been entirely right that a second language would make things worse. My translators working against two languages created a sort of mental gymnastics that was all the more confusing when you factored in Vincent Santorelli’s warbling. I turned off my translator immediately. I could understand English just fine without it.

I felt a pressure against my body, and realized that, next to me, an Andalite had fallen. I felt envious of him. Our ears are delicate, and our eyes are necessary. This twin assault against both senses was unimaginable. I was, myself, in so much pain, so disorientated, so nauseated that I a sense of numbness began to wash over me. This was a hormonal holdover from our days as prey. Andalites were all equipped with natural painkillers that emitted in times of extreme stress, allowing us to fight predators well past the point we should have succumbed, giving us one more chance to protect the herd. It had served me well in war, allowing me to battle in my natural body and not hide my Andalite pride with an Earth morph. Now, it simply made me feel far _too_ peaceful, like I had gone slack, like I had become liquid. I resisted the urge to collapse myself. If it weren’t for my time tail fighting Yeerks, learning to sort through sound and work with my body when it began to numb, I believe I would have lost consciousness then and there. I am sure more than just this one Andalite had fallen.

I needed to center myself if I intended to remain standing. Instinctively, I sought Prince Jake’s voice. Somehow, I found it through the cacophony, low and smooth and comforting.

“I’m holding the door, but I don’t know for how long. This thing _really_ wants to shut. Tobias?”

I felt a small weight land on my shoulders.

<It’s just me, man,> said Tobias. His thought-speak was nearby and present. It was easy to lean into compared to the rest of the noise. I focused on him, and found comfort in his voice.

The weight of him was not the weight of his hawk body, which I knew, but did not have the capabilities to express. All I could manage was, <You are too small.>

<Yeah,> said Tobias. <I’m a bat right now. I was in Jake’s shirt pocket. Hey, thanks for never really teaching the Andalite military about pockets, by the way. Menderash sewed us some secret ones, and they never patted us down or anything. Can you get up? I need you to walk forward a little. We gotta get out of here before our luck runs out.>

I did as asked. <But you were not a bat. Before. I saw you. You were not a bat. It is impossible to morph here. I…> I stopped speaking there, for no other reason than connecting and expressing thoughts was very difficult.

<Yeah, that was, uh, someone else.>

<Tobias and I have been in morph for eighty-three percent of the safe time,> said a new voice. A female voice. A voice I unfortunately recognized.

If it were possible, I grew even more anxious.

<I am having a bad day,> I said.

I felt Tobias’s small claws dig into my skin, like a small comforting scratch. <I get it, man. I get it. Hey, can someone translate Estrid-ese into regular people speak?>

“We have roughly eighteen minutes,” said someone. Jake, I think. It was getting harder to focus. “That’s not a lot.”

<Sure isn’t,> said Tobias. I felt a prick of tiny talons. <Come on, buddy. You got it in you to walk?>

Slowly, slowly, I forced myself forward. I continued to focus all my senses on Tobias. <Good,> he was saying. <You’re going in the right direction. Okay, Jeanne and Santo, take about three steps to your left. Great, okay, stop right there. Turn to your four o’clocks. Great. Walk forward. Fast. Estrid, chill out, stop trying to fly off of Jake. It’ll be over soon. Marco, go, like, twenty steps to your right. Man, you are so far away. Did you somehow wander _away_ from the door? No, Marco, other right! Jesus! Ax, move your body to the left just, like, at 45 degrees. Okay, okay. Marco, turn to your left. Alright. Both of you, _run_! >

I ran, though it was very difficult. My lungs burned, my eyes burned, my ears burned. I managed. I ran and ran, until I was finally clear of the smoke. My stalk eyes still itched terribly, and seeing out of them was difficult. Through them, the world was a blurred and hazy thing, red-rimmed and unfocused. When I opened my main eyes, they saw more clearly. My ability to swivel my head somewhat was suddenly a necessary skill, and not a disturbing party trick. I did so to look slightly to my left and confirm what I thought I saw.

Menderash was standing next to me, holding a breathing mask. He raised it toward my head, intending to place it on my face. I knew placement of these masks required two hands, so I raised mine to assist him, and hold the mask in place. He wrapped it around my respiratory slits. I felt instant relief as the irritant-absorbing chemicals flowed into my lungs, allowing me to breath easily and calmly. I had only been in that situation for mere minutes, and my body felt like it had been seasons in that smoke.

I blinked my main eyes a few times, attempting to water them. My stalk eyes would be useless until I morphed away the injury. I, again, twisted my neck to look at Menderash in my awkward, disturbing, half human way. His hand still lingered by my face, as if he were tempted to touch it with his rough, leathery hand. I was surprised to find I didn’t mind the idea.

It was, physically, the closest we had ever been in these opposing forms, human and Andalite. Slowly, Menderash drew his hand away.

<I was unable to get this to you sooner,> he said, using our shared thought-speak language.

<It is fine,> I said. <It was confusing and loud in there. I do not blame you for not finding me.>

<I apologize profusely,> he said, his mouth twisting into a small smile. <It was I that created the smoke device. The humans described it to me as a silly, childish gadget meant for pranks and theatrics. It was easy for me to replicate once I understood the purpose, though I knew it would be no small thing for the receiving Andalites.>

<I forgive you,> I said weakly. <It was a clever plan.>

<Perhaps,> said Menderash. <We have yet to see if it shall work.>

“Keep moving, people! We need to be out of here ten minutes ago!” said Jake, pulling off his breathing mask and throwing it to the side. The other humans did the same. Those in charge of the plan began running. The rest of us followed.

<Tobias and I have been in morph for ninety percent of the safe time,> said the voice I now knew to belong to Estrid-Corill-Darrath. I had many questions, but it was not the time to ask them.

“Twelve minutes left,” said Marco.

“That’s not a lot, but it’s enough,” said Jake. “Go, go, go!”

We ran. We ran and ran.

We ran until the emergency barriers in the hallways slammed shut.

Vincent Santorelli slammed a fist against the sudden appearance of a wall. “Shit!” he said.

Marco placed a hand on his shoulder. “Worry not, you beautiful modern day Adonis, we have this figured out. Menderash apparently has access to a ton of super secret military overrides. Menderash?” Marco gestured toward him, as if Menderash were about to reveal a trick.

Menderash had pulled up his personalized computer _,_ an implant given to all military personnel upon _aristh_ graduation. I had received one, but I rarely used it. It frustrated me. Menderash, however, used his computer like his lungs processed air. He was giving it silent commands, his human eyes clearly scrambling to keep up with feeds more easily read by stalk eyes. He somehow managed to do this with only some visible difficulty. Suddenly, he froze.

Marco watched him with narrowed eyes. He stamped a foot and repeated his previous gesture. “Menderash!” he said with an undercurrent of anger.

“It appears,” said Menderash slowly, “That my accesses has been revoked.” His tone was even and calm, but I could feel his projected panic.

<Of course it has been revoked!> said Estrid, who was less conservative about her tone. <You have been running around like a mad man, damaged in a grotesque body, clearly having conspired with humans to steal what was under Andalite control! You actually expected all the luxuries afforded you by your family and status would simply lie in wait?>

It was not mere status that lead to Menderash holding military secrets very few people got to know. His two older brothers were intellectual failures. Menderash had earned his position. I felt an urge to defend him, but this was no time to argue that point. Menderash stumbled backwards a little, catching himself on a wall and sliding down. More than the despair he was projecting, I could see his loss and hopelessness plainly on his face. I wished beyond wishing to morph human and hold him as Cassie and Jake would often do, to run my hand through his hair and to softly kiss his forehead. I could not.

Menderash looked up at me. <I am sorry,> he said, and I felt a surge of his open and unasking fidelity.

<No,> I said, sharing with him my guilt and my own soft affection, <I am sorry.>

As we locked our eyes, Estrid flew at Menderash, landing on his good shoulder. The weight had been removed from her, which I feel was a mistake. Menderash yelped in surprise. I winced. If you are not used to them, those talons can be quiet painful, and I doubt Estrid was as graceful as Tobias. She had most likely left wounds, which Menderash could not morph off. She did not seem bothered by any of this. <Pull up our founders network. Tree will help us.>

“How? She contacts us, we do not contact her,” said Menderash, defeated.

“Just do as she says,” snapped Jake. He was examining where the security barrier met the floor. He knelt down and attempted to dig his fingers beneath the space between the wall and the barrier and lift. Perhaps he thought, since human arms are stronger than Andalite arms, that it might be helpful. I felt mildly offended. The difference is not that great.

I watched as Menderash made his feeds visible. We all simply waited as Estrid gave Menderash instructions. Time passed between us both far too slowly, and far too quickly.

<Tobias and, um, Estrid have seven minutes left in morph,> I said quietly. <If we give ourselves up now, perhaps they will take them outside the no-morphing zones. We should—>

<What is this about?> came a voice. Estrid had made Menderash’s screen visible to all, and on it was displayed a distinguished and beautiful Andalite woman. She was a deep plum color, a very attractive shade, and her form was small and lithe. She was a good deal older than me, perhaps two or three generations. She was familiar in a distant sort of way, but I couldn’t quite place it. She did not look surprised to see that an Earth bird and human were contacting her. Rather, she looked quite resigned.

<Please secure this channel,> said Estrid. Menderash looked toward her, then back at the screen, then back at Estrid. I could tell he was missing his stalk eyes. Watching a conversation with only a pair of main eyes is maddening.

The woman in the screen did not protest. She merely cocked an eye stalk in a way that conveyed amusement, then began typing on a physical keyboard placed outside the screen. I blinked in surprise. Keyboards were all but obsolete on Andalite, as society favors the much more elegant thought-speak command. However, the link between one’s thought-speak and a computer was easy to monitor. If one wanted to participate in unsavory business, they would need to physically interact with the programming. Keyboards were a sign of great delinquency.

<The line is secured,> said the Andalite. <You are an Earth creature. Are you, perhaps, an Andalite bandit?>

It had been a long, long time since I’d heard the Animorphs called that. It was then that I recognized her, in terrible fullness and clarity. She was both a known figure and she was not. There was a time when she would have been on the public feeds, but she had quickly retreated from them. I would have missed her, had I not been Elfangor’s brother.

<No,> said Estrid. <It is I, Grass. I discovered your identity long ago.> She puffed up her feathers, sounding and looking very smug.

The woman smiled. <I assume we all had,> she said. <We are all intelligent, stubborn, and brave. It is only natural we would be curious about each other, Estrid-Corill-Darath.>

Estrid froze. Then, she recovered, her body language becoming far too lax even in Tobias’s inexpressive form. <How do you know? Perhaps I could—>

<You are Estrid,> said the woman calmly. <Menderash-Postill-Fastill is sitting next to you. It has already spread through the networks that he became a _nothlit_ in his quest to bring him Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill. Our forth founder is a _vecol_ stuck on Earth, who is more than pleased at our culture’s current upheaval, and is happy to work with the American military to smuggle in what is needed. I believe you know him, Aximili? >

<I do,> I said. <I was not kind to him when we met, but I know now that he deserves admiration. Though I play no part in _Voktra_ and have distanced myself from identities both secret and revealed, I recognize you from past video feeds, Jahar-Lathir-Niambeen. So you have chosen to remain on Andalite, rather than reuniting with Alloran? >

Jahar gave me a look that the humans would have called ‘wry.’ <They will not allow me to leave, nor will they allow him onto our planet,> she said. <It is what it is.>

Estrid shuffled uncomfortably, clearly upset at all the reveals. Menderash looked up at the screen. “I was never curious,” he said with a small shrug. “I always respected your wishes for privacy.”

The woman’s smile deepened. <I appreciate that, Menderash-kala,> she said.

<Let’s stop discussing this. There is not much time left until I am stuck in the body of this awful bird,> said Estrid.

<Hey!> said Tobias.

<We are trapped in Illeriphan. Security barriers are in place. Please release us.>

The woman took a deep breath. I watched as her chest rose and fell. She looked down at her keyboard. <How much time do I have?> she asked.

<Two minutes,> said Estrid.

<No way!> said Tobias.

<Two of our minutes are four of your minutes,> I said. <It is very important to distinguish the two.>

I pointed a swollen stalk eye at Marco. In spite of the circumstances, he mouthed the English words ‘fuck you.’ Do not worry, he was not actually angry. It is our “inside” joke.

The woman on the screen frowned, then looked down at her presumed keyboard. <I do not have time to dismantle the security measures in Illeriphan. However, I am able to easily control a defense droid.>

<How will that help us!> said Estrid.

<Please get close to the floor,> said the woman calmly.

Jake, Tobias, and Marco immediately complied. We were once warriors, and we do not hesitate in following direct orders from a trusted source. Jeanne and Santorelli must have also been experienced, as they laid down as soon as Jake did. I knew Menderash took a few moments to process orders, so I pulled on his artificial skin and forced him down with me. Estrid asked, <Why —>

There was a large and terrible _boom!_ I felt the heat of the shredder beam pass above me, menacing and molten. It was over quickly. Estrid had a few singed feathers and was making distressed noises.

<Oh be quiet, you baby,> said Tobias.

Jahar’s communication screen had not been damaged. It was a hologram, after all, and powered by an implant in Menderash’s head. <Look,> said Jahar. <I have made you a window.>

Then the screen disappeared. Jahar had closed the connection.

I stepped forward to get a better sense of how high up we were. It was high. Quite high.

Prince Jake pinched the bridge of his nose. “Estrid, Tobias, why don’t you— aaand Estrid is already gone.”

We watched as she soared away, removing herself from the anti-morphing zone. As soon as she got to the ground, she morphed to herself, then morphed into a _kafit,_ all in the span of one breath. She made a clean escape.

<The defense drone Jahar disabled must still be inactive,> I said. <We can make it out without incident if we make it out immediately.>

Tobias flew outside the building and started morphing as well. While he was going from a flight capable creature to another flight capable creature, the transition was awkward, and Tobias fell like a weight for nearly two stories. Thankfully, there were stories to spare.

Jake and Marco moved to the edge of the so called “window” and looked down.

“We have to jump,” said Prince Jake grimly.

“Can you do it?” Marco asked Prince Jake. Prince Jake snorted derisively in return.

“Can _you_ do it?” Jake repeated.

“Oh, sure,” said Marco dryly. “I would love to, really. The nightmares where I think about doing this kind of thing are my favorite ones, right up there with my dreams about being fed grapes by a young Jane Fonda.”

“Wait, wait,” said Vincent Santorelli. “What are we doing?”

Jeanne Gerard crossed her arms. “They expect us to jump from this window and morph bird as we fall.”

“Uh,” said Vincent Santorelli.

“It can be done,” said Jake.

“It should not be done,” said Jeanne Gerard.

“I know, right?” said Marco. “That’s what I always said, right before we did it anyway. Last one to splatter on the ground as a half human, half bird monstrosity is a rotten egg!”

They turned and looked at me as one.

As one, they noticed Menderash.

A silence fell.

“Do not worry about me,” said Menderash

I turned to him, studying his alien but alluring face, remembering all the time we had spent together in our human forms. He was like me now, not quite Andalite, not quite human. He was the only person who could ever, possibly, begin to understand me.

<I will not leave you behind,> I said.

Prince Jake opened his mouth to protest, but then he caught my eye. He closed his mouth and his expression softened. Prince Jake does not like leaving anyone behind but, in that moment, he knew nothing he could do would make me go. “It’s your call, not mine,” he said softly. “You’re sure?”

“Aximili, please, do not—” started Menderash, but I interrupted him.

<I’m sure,> I said firmly.

Marco looked at Prince Jake, then back at me. “Hey,” he said. “It’s not over yet. Alright?”

<It isn’t,> I said, though my hearts were not in it. Perhaps he was right. It did not matter if he wasn’t. Menderash had stood by me when the odds were far less in his favor.

Marco took a deep breath, took one last look at me, and then jumped out the temporary window. Jake did the same. I waited for a few seconds, my hearts pounding, and then I saw a peregrine falcon and an osprey fly away. Vincent Santorelli walked to the edge of the “window” and looked down. He seemed to freeze. Jeanne Gerard rolled her eyes, walked over, and unceremoniously pushed him forward. He screamed and fell. She jumped down after him. In time I saw two more Earth birds flying away.

I turned to Menderash. I put a hand on his cheek. He let out a held breath, smiled, and put his hand on top of mine.

We stood for a moment, sharing our anxieties and fears without words.

The walls that had trapped us were raised, revealing upwards of twenty furious Andalites.

We remained as we were, utterly unashamed of ourselves.

 


	11. Marco

Tobias told us to follow him, so we did. It’s not like we could go back to the Andalite hotel and tuck ourselves in with a hot toddy. We were considered biological ticking time bombs, even without ever touching an actual Kelbrid or seeing one of those mutant Andalites. I couldn’t blame them for the paranoia. I get why they went with coercion and secrecy. If they had tried to play good cop and asked us to play nice, we all would have had enough time to consider the worst case scenario— the version where we were infected with this virus, and wouldn’t be able to leave the planet, ever. We would have created an exit plan. It was better for them to just stun us and round us up like cattle, then act like we got lost in space if things went south. When you add in the layer where the whole Kelbrid thing is a great Andalite secret, well, it was a no-brainer. It had to be brute force and lies.

I could follow the logic. I got it. Doesn’t mean I liked it.

<Did they ever think to just _ask_ ? > I said, coasting on a thermal.  <Did they ever think to just come up to us and say hey, guys, there’s this whole cover up conspiracy going on, we’re going to need to test you. Pee in this cup! I would have _loved_ to pee in a cup! I have _so_ much pee to give! >

<Shut up,> snapped Tobias.

<I got—>

<No,> said Tobias. <I mean it. _Shut. Up._ I know what you’re doing, you’re doing your little thing where you joke because you’re stressed, I get it, but I’m not in the mood. So shut up. >

<I remember you having fun with it three years ago,> I said. <I guess your little woodland vacation completed your transformation into full time hawk.>

<The two of you are done,> said Jake, his thought-speak tone the kind of threatening that I knew he’d make good on. <Not a single word from either of you.>

If it had been anyone else, I would have ignored him. That’s not because Jake had authority over me. We could call him captain all we want, he held no power these days. But I could already tell he was internalizing everything, and even I was uninterested in making it worse by fighting with Tobias. I wanted to, though. I really fucking wanted to.

Santo tried to have my back. <Hi, I’m actor Troy McClure,> he said in private thought-speak. <You might remember me from such films as ‘Guess Who’s Coming For Grass Dinner’ and ‘Star Trek 5: Purple Plants’.> Santo was a master at impressions, and had pretty much memorized every episode of _The Simpsons._ His Troy McClure was _uncanny_ , and he could somehow do it in thought-speak, but I wasn’t really in the mood.

<Not now,> I said.

<Alright,> he said, and fell silent.

Tobias led us to some kind of Andalite forest, which looked like if Dr. Seuss and Lewis Carroll smoked up Tim Burton and they all started finger painting. He told us they were called the Untamed Wilds, and that the Andalites wouldn’t follow us there.

We demorphed. Santo hadn’t thought to wear a morphing suit under his clothes, which cheered me up _way_ more than his Simpsons bit. Much to mine and I’m sure Jeanne’s chagrin, he _had_ managed to morph his briefs. Between Santo’s impressive physique and the general fairy garden feel of the Andalite forest, Santo looked like he was a Calvin Klein model who’d wandered onto the set of Highlander and was adapting. It was the only thing that was good about this whole situation.

The rest of it was complete and utter shit.

I picked up a weird mushroom-looking thing from the ground. Somehow, it was glowing. I looked at Jake. “Well, here we are again, a couple of Animorphs staying overnight in unfamiliar territory,” I said. “Man, figuring out what we can and can’t eat is going to be even more of a challenge here than it ever was back on Earth.” I thrust the mushroom at Jake. “Since Ax isn’t around to be the King’s Taster, someone of us is going to have to do it. I nominate you. Go ahead, Jake, eat this and see if your body tries to shut down!”

Jake bat my hand away. “We won’t have to camp,” he said. “We’ll go to the embassy. Tobias and I can search for some useful native morphs, then— Marco, why are you shaking your head?”

“Because,” I said. “That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said.”

Jake looked mildly offended. Tobias took his side, as always. <You know that it’s optional to be a complete dick, right?> said Tobias. <There are ways to say things that aren’t mean.>

Jake sighed. “It’s fine, Tobias, it’s just how Marco and I talk to each other.” He leaned against a tree and crossed his arms. “If you’re worried that the Andalites will overreact about the embassy taking us home when we stole The Rachel, don’t be. We don’t need their support. We have a great relationship with the Taxxons and the _nothlit_ Yeerks in the Pacific, so we’ll keep advancing on our own.”

I stared at Jake for a minute, then scoffed. “Seriously?” I said. “You’re seriously trying to tell me about the state of technology on Earth? Dude, I’m unofficially-officially in charge of PR and spin for NASA, you realize that, right? Plus, oh yeah, _my dad works there._ You know, it’s not actually the Taxxons or the Yeerks that _really_ help us, it’s the ex-hosts that didn’t go all _Flowers For Algernon_.”

Jake sighed. “Okay, I get it, I’m not involved enough.”

“You’re not,” I said coolly. “You’re missing a lot of links here. No, we don’t need the Andalites, but the Andalites need _us,_ and it’s not a mutual thing. It’s more like Kathy Bates in _Misery_ telling James Caan she’s his biggest fan, then tying him to a bed and smashing his legs with a sledgehammer.”

Jake dropped all the torn bits of torn glow-mushroom that were in his hand and glared at me. “It’s not _just_ the Andalites that haven’t seen or read every single piece of media you have. You realize that, right?”

“It’s not my fault you’re uncultured,” I said. “Listen, the Andalites have been stripping us for resources since they made contact. They gave us clean energy in exchange for some aluminum, and then they ambushed our mines with their own people and never report how much they take. Then! They started mining where they’re not supposed to and basically dared us to fight back when we asked them to stop. They’re treating our planet like a Walmart for spacecraft materials, only everything is free and all they have to do is give us silly humans some high tech toys to keep us amused. Which, by the way, they’re not even good at doing! Most of our technological advances come from our relationships with the Yeerks and Yeerk-adjacent, but that’s hard for the media to swallow, so we act like it’s the Andalites.”

Jake was nodding thoughtfully, which was expected. He already knew I did a lot more in Hollywood than just drink champagne and fuck models. Jeanne was leaning forward thoughtfully, her expression intent and engaged. She was even nodding a little, like she’d already considered what I’d just said and was having it all confirmed. Santo had a look on his face that was both surprised and resigned. Tobias was staring off to the left so that he wasn’t looking at any of us, which was his bird version of leaning against a wall with his arms crossed and scowling. He didn’t have anything to argue against and he didn’t like it.

“Look, if we go and tell what is essentially Earth, ‘hey, us heroes, we weren’t even on Andalite for a day and they threw us in prison’, they’re going to react. And they’re going to react big.”

“They can’t,” said Jake. “Maybe we don’t need the Andalites to advance Earth, but they definitely have bigger and better weapons than us. It’d be like shooting a water gun at a fully armed M60.”

“Yes and no,” I said. “Again, I bring you back to Exhibit Yeerks. The States have the most contact with ex-hosts, so we actually do have weapons. We say we don’t, but we do. We have a lot of them.” Jeanne hissed a little, which I really enjoyed. It definitely brought a dramatic weight to the conversation.

Jake closed his eyes. “How many weapons,” he asked.

“Enough to do a good amount of damage to the Andalite blockade around Earth,” I said. “For exactly one ambush battle where we catch them off guard.”

“And?” said Jake.

“And after that the Andalites will blow up the whole North American continent, then knock out Australia just to be petty,” I said.

Jake closed his eyes. “And you think there’s enough war-hungry people in Congress who believe it’ll be worth a shot,” he said.

“Bingo,” I said.

<No way,> said Tobias. <Politicians are stupid, but not _that_ stupid. >

“Really?” I asked. “Really? You’re _really_ going to step in and try to tell me I’m wrong? Name five congressmen. Go.”

Jake held up a hand. Tobias dutifully quieted down. I crossed my arms over my chest and pressed my lips together.

Jake looked at me like he searching for something, like he was reading between the lines of my body. I raised my eyebrows at him, jaw clenched, daring him to try and tell me I was wrong. I knew he would. I knew that look. My parents gave me that look constantly, right before telling me to go back to a shrink. Like telling some old guy a bunch of old shit that I actively try _not_ to talk about is my idea of a great Wednesday afternoon.

But it doesn’t matter if you’re stable or not, the second people know you get just a little coo coo for Cocoa Puffs now and then they start treating you like a ticking time bomb. Once, my dad turned off the TV when I walked into a room because he was watching _MASH._ Are you fucking kidding me?

Jake, of all people, should understand that. He should know that I’m fine most of the time. But Jake hasn’t had any human interaction in three years, so I guess he’s forgotten people are nuanced and complex.

“Go ahead,” I said coldly. “Dismiss me. That doesn’t change the fact that Glencore is aggressively lobbying to attack the Andalites, and that half the guys in congress are just grown up versions of Richie Rich and don’t actually see anything past dollar signs. The conservatives are already adding anti-Andalite sentiments into their rhetoric. I’m pretty sure the Senate Committee for Alien Relations is becoming a We Hate The Andalites Club. But sure, go the embassy and watch as humanity starts an intergalactic war we can’t possibly win. You love guilt so much anyway, why not just add some more.”

Jake’s expression went blank. Tobias’s feathers stood up on all ends. <You know he’s never going to get over himself if you keep saying that kind of thing to him,> said Tobias to me privately. He was pissed. <You blame him for being depressed, and then you make it worse.> I rolled my eyes, barely suppressing a bitter laugh. If he had bothered to keep tabs on Jake, he’d know that Jake responded better to bluntness than coddling. I didn’t owe Tobias an explanation. He missed the tryouts for the Get-Jake-To-Act-Like-A-Human Ball. Cassie and me had been the only players, and Cassie quit the team two years ago.

Jake took a deep breath. “What does everyone else think?” he asked.

Jeanne straightened her shoulders and looked at Jake. “I miss Earth,” she said. “That is my opinion on the matter, and you may do with it what you wish.”

I looked to Santo. He met my gaze evenly. “Look, man, I know better than anyone that the U.S. government can be absolutely batshit,” he said. “But man, going after the Andalites? That’s a huge stretch. I don’t think they’ll do it. I’m naked and I want to go home. Sorry, man.”

I rolled my eyes. “Opinions are like assholes,” I said, waving my hand. It was cute when Jeanne and Santo participated, but annoying. No one had asked them. “Jake, look. You can hem and haw and ask for input all you like, but it comes down to you. Always has, always will. You’ve dealt with the US military and you’ve dealt with Andalites. Am I really out of line here?”

Jake closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed. “No,” he said quietly. He opened his eyes. “But I don’t think there’s enough risk. There’s no way enough people in the government are dumb enough to pull a stunt against the Andalites.”

I scoffed. “You _really_ aren’t paying attention.”

“You’re right,” he said calmly. “I’m not. Not like you are. And neither is anyone else.”

I could feel the muscles in my face relax. I had expected to be pushed further. Jake watched my expression, the nodded. He’d come to a conclusion.

“We have time,” he said. “We know enough about _Voktra,_ Menderash, and Ax to know that the military will want to make a spectacle out of punishing them. They’re safe until the Andalites make their treason public. That has to take at _least_ a few days. We’ll snag some morphs and do a few spins around the port town, just to make sure. We’ll try and come up with an alternate plan. But Marco,” he said, making eye contact with me, “We’re on an alien planet that we know nothing about, and our only advantage is technology that they invented. If we can’t think of anything safe, then we _have_ to go to the embassy. Okay?”

<You’re really going to pamper Marco and have us wait even though everyone else just wants to go home? Really?> asked Tobias.

I wanted to make a comment about pampering and Tobias refusing to morph human to help out with chores around the ship, but I managed to bite my tongue. Instead, I blew him a kiss. I had a feeling he hated that more.

Jake ignored us. “One Andalite day is, like, three of ours. Correct?” he asked, looking at Tobias.

<Basically,> said Tobias, sounding incredibly bitter.

“Okay,” said Jake. “It used to be dark and now it’s not, so this must be morning. We’ll give it one nightfall. If we still haven’t figured anything out tomorrow, then we go to the Embassy.”

No one but me looked pleased. I rolled my eyes, leaned over, and plucked another glow-mushroom from the ground. “Well,” I said. “Camping it is. Since everyone else is pissed at me for trying to save millions of lives, both Andalite and human, then I volunteer myself to dig a hole for shitting.” I popped the glow-mushroom into my mouth. “You’re welcome,” I said, and left. I needed to be alone.

I also spit out the glow-mushroom as soon as I was out of eyeshot. It tasted like the way gasoline smells, but I wasn’t about to ruin my exit by admitting that.

  


I can’t say the next few hours were my favorite. Jake, Tobias, and I were pretty adept at finding ourselves stranded with no resources, but it was never fun. Tobias found food for us: some kind of weird, hairless rabbit that he said would probably be nutritionally sound. It was tough and it tasted terrible, but ultimately, it wasn’t poisonous. We spent the rest of the first night scouring the forest for something to make our little campsite more comfortable. After a couple of hours we were still sleeping on dirt, but we had a couple of thick leaves making us feel better about the experience. Santo tried to make an outfit out of the leaves, which was kind of adorable. He ended up looking all fucked up like the Little Mermaid does when she ties a blanket around herself with rope to cover up her brand new bajingo.

We started a system where two of us went out for food or to spy on the spaceport, one of us stayed at the campsite in battle morph, and the other two slept.

Whenever I could, I worked on a plan. I pride myself on plans. I’m the plan guy. I even have plans for grocery shopping! My dad and I used to approach running errands like we were pulling off some great heist. You take Target, I’ll take Albertsons. Hit up the hardware section first, while you’re fresh, so you don’t get overwhelmed by all the light bulb options. We’re looking for a 3-way halogen 50/100/150 for the living room lamp. Go, go, go!

This plan? This plan was not coming together. I wasn’t just out of my league, I was actually out of my galaxy. Yeah, I’d asked Ax about Andalite tits, but I never asked him about his military compounds. There was a very large big blue building in the port town and I had no idea what to do about it. Was it a hangar? A school? A barn? A theater? Was Alanis Morissette going down on Dave Coulier in the big blue round thing? The Andalites didn’t have the decency to put their signs in English.

There was nowhere to start. Nothing. We’d already wasted our one and only false surrender. If they ever found us again, we’d surely be muzzled and chained with no room for shenanigans. It made me really mad at Ax. Yeah, I get it, romance or whatever, but if Ax was around, we’d have a chance to get Menderash. Without Ax, we had no chance to rescue either of them.

Night fell once more.

Everyone knew it, but I refused to admit it. Our one and only option was to go to the embassy.

I guess it didn’t matter too much. _I’d_ be fine. There’s a reason I built an underground bomb shelter in my backyard, and it was a _good_ one. Comfortable, well-lit, soft beds with one thousand count sheets. My family and I could all live in there for nearly a decade, and yes, that includes Nora _and_ her and Dad’s kid. I am noble and magnanimous, a legend walking among men. If humanity wanted to start Universe War I, then me and my loved ones could wait out the worst of it.

The sky started to get lighter. I was on watch while Jake and Tobias hunted and Jeanne and Santo slept. I was messing around with a few plants I’d found, arranging them into aesthetically pleasing displays. I was _flower arranging._ I was taking this defeat hard.

Red light started peeking over the horizon. I watched as a tiger and a hawk bounded toward me. Jake demorphed. As soon as he was done, I said, “Let’s go to the embassy.”

<Thanks for finally giving us permission,> said Tobias.

“You’re welcome!” I said cheerfully.

Just then, a dark shadow appeared over us all. I tensed. I didn’t know what the shadow was or what it meant, but I knew it couldn’t be good. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see leopard spots growing over Jeanne. Jake was falling on all fours, remorphing. I started focusing on the gorilla.

We all heard an unfortunately too-familiar voice in unison. <Stop that,> Estrid said.

I looked up. I saw a black ship, too angular and dark to be from the Andalites and all too familiar. The _Rachel._ It was still missing a large chunk of its hull, and was leaning awkwardly to one side.

The entrance ramp dropped down in front of us.

<Get in your ship,> said Estrid. <No need to morph.>

“Wha—” started Santo. “That thing was barely running when we left it!”

<Yes,> said Estrid. <We’ve patched it up as best we can. Step into the transport beam, now. We are running out of time.>

I looked at Jake. He looked at me. We both silently agreed that there was probably no way out of this, and we went up the ramp.

  


Before I could think of something witty to say about our return to the _Rachel,_ the floor of the ship had opened back up.

“That was a disappointing road trip,” I said. “We didn’t even get a chance to sing Bohemian Rhapsody.”

Jake started to slowly walk down it, doing his whole Big Bad Leader thing and checking out the situation in case it was a trap. I let him, because I had learned long ago not to get between Jake and his savior concept. That, or I’m a coward and a wuss. It’s a little of column A, a little of column B.

Jake didn’t get very far before Estrid came bounding up behind him, positively trotting with an energy that was either anxious or thrilled or both at the same time. She whizzed past Jake so quickly, she nearly ran into him with her massive alien body. Jake glared at her, then looked at me. I shrugged.

“The girl has a pretty strong sense of self-preservation,” I said. “If she’s running ahead, then we’re probably good.”

“I think so, too,” said Jake. He motioned toward Jeanne, Santo, and Tobias. Tobias fluttered forward to land on Jake’s shoulder like the teacher’s pet he is (literally). We went down together, Jake in the lead, me behind him, and the rest trailing behind.

We all walked out of the ship and into about twenty Andalites, all holding shredders.

Estrid had brought us back to Illeriphan.

“So much for self-preservation,” Jake muttered.

I glanced at him. “Oh, it’s still self-preservation,” I said.

“And we’re the preservatives,” said Santo.

<That is not the case,> said Estrid. She was holding a vial of some sort of dark black liquid. She held it out in front of her like a weapon, which probably meant that it was. I looked at Jake warily.

“We should have just gone to the damn embassy,” I said. “You’re going to say ‘I told you so’ every day in heaven, aren’t you.”

“Jews don’t believe in heaven,” said Jake dismissively, his eyes tracking Estrid.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “And I have _way_ too much gay sex to qualify. Do you think they have ghosts on Andalite?”

<War Prince Lirem-Arrepath-Terrous,> brain-shouted Estrid, her forward march unimpeded by our weak attempts at banter. Honestly, I didn’t mind. Even I was having a hard time finding levity when trained members of the Andalite military were pointing shredders at my face. <You have recognized my talent, and have used it to ruin me. Lower your weapons, or I will ruin you.>

A giant Andalite stepped forward, one that I could tell was pretty old. He had that same sort of dulled, patchy look of the ancient military guys. In fact, I might have even met him before, but I wasn’t sure. I knew my ambassadors, but I’d only ever met the _real_ bigwigs right after the war. That whole period of my life is a fever dream and any memory I have is just a flash. I sure as hell couldn’t put a face to each individual blue deer who congratulated me.

He watched Estrid with his main eyes making distinct patterns in the careful sort of way Ax had when he was worried. <We had an agreement,> he said.

<It’s not agreeing if all other options are repugnant,> said Estrid. She stepped forward, holding her black vial out further. <You know what I am capable of. Lower your weapons.>

Lirem considered her with an exhausted sort of impatience I recognized intimately. It’s the sort of look people used to give me after the war, back before I established myself as a mega-celeb with power. It was a look that said “Please, silly boy, be quiet and let the adults speak.” I didn’t need to be an expert in alien body language to be intimately familiar with the look Lirem was giving Estrid.

Lirem conferred with the Andalite next to him, who looked just as old and just as assholeish as Lirem himself. I could only assume he was some kind of first officer. He looked back to Estrid. <You are drawing far too much attention to yourself and wasting everyone’s time.>

Estrid tossed the vial of black liquid in the air, caught it, and stepped forward. Nearly everyone holding shredders took a step toward her. It was very Will Smith. <This,> she said, brandishing the beaker between two of her fingers, <Is an isolation of the YQ-859 parasite,> she said.

Lirem tensed. <Who told you of—nevermind. It is doubtful, regardless. Where would you have gotten such a thing, disgraced _aristh?_ ”

Estrid pointed an eye stalk toward Tobias. <I gathered a blood sample from this bird,> she said. <From there, it was child’s play to isolate the disease.>

Lirem gave Estrid that same smugly amused look. <Oh?> he said. <And why would he give you blood at all?>

<Small bird,> said Estrid, gesturing toward Tobias. <Tell them you let me draw blood.>

<Uh,> said Tobias, shifting uncomfortably on Jake’s shoulder, <I’m a _nothlit_ that can morph, and she wanted to try and figure out why? Also, hi, I guess?>

<Impossible,> said Lirem. The Andalite next to him shifted, and Lirem’s body language followed. They were talking privately again. Lirem pointed an eye back toward Tobias. All of Tobias’s feathers were standing pretty much straight in the air at this point.

<I thought so as well,> said Estrid. <But I watched as he morphed. I took samples from him to confirm the facts. After you took Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill and Menderash-Postill-Fastill for your own testing, I thought I would do some of my own.>

Lirem and his boyfriend continued to talk in private. Eventually, Lirem pointed an eye stalk back at Estrid. To his credit, he was no longer mildly amused by this young woman who dared to speak to him. He was now fully condescending, which, while not a step up, was at least different. You know, like grape cough syrup versus bubblegum. It’s all terrible, and nobody wins!

<I’m sure you’re quite proud of your accomplishment,> said Lirem, <While we did find trace amounts of YQ-856 in Prince Aximili, we created an antidote, and neutralized any threat.>

“So you’ve released Aximili and Menderash from custody then?” said Jake. He was doing his whole big imposing man thing, standing with his shoulders all squared, trying his hardest to look like a stern Disney prince. It was cute if you knew him and were watching from the sidelines. It was also really, really terrifying when directed right at you.

Lirem gave Jake little more than a cursory glance. <Prince Aximili and the _nothlit vecol_ are offering their time to aid in further study of Kelbrid space in exchange for political immunity for their transgressions. It is already done, and does not concern you. >

“His name is Menderash,” I said. “I know, the name is pretty hard to pronounce, but I bet you can do it.”

Lirem didn’t even bother with me at all. Not even one stalk eye. I clenched my fists at my side. “When can I punch these assholes,” I said under my breath.

“When they are no longer pointing weapons at us,” said Jake, patiently.

I clicked my tongue. “I want to do the stupid and reckless thing and you’re discouraging me. Who have we become?”

Estrid threw her vial up in the air again, caught it. <Perhaps you have created a YQ-856 antidote. Perhaps you have put protections in place,> she said. <But you used me for my expertise in plintconarhythmic physics, did you not?>

<No, Estrid-Corill-Darrath,> said Lirem, slow and patient and sad, as if he were giving someone heartbreaking news, <I used you because you had enough of an understanding of the science to carry out the task. I would not have wasted a truly talented mind on a suicide mission. You must understand that by now. I explained this to you many times before.>

<Hmm,> said Estrid loftily. <Then perhaps I made some miscalculations. Tell me, if one spliced YQ-856 with an particularly nasty strain of _yamshil,_ that would be very bad, would it not? >

Lirem froze. < _Yamshil_ is easily treated.>

<Perhaps,> said Estrid. <But it’s highly contagious and hits quickly. _Yamshil_ plagues are the hallmark of every summer, are they not? If YQ-856 combined with the fast spread of _yamshil_ in such a way to speed up the symptoms, then there would be no time to treat either.>

Lirem said nothing. I tensed. “The fuck is she doing,” I said.

Jake head out an arm in front of me, as if he were trying to hold me back. “Don’t react yet,” he said.

I glanced behind me. Jeanne’s arms were folded over her chest and she had walked a few steps backwards, as if she were trying to slowly slink her way back onto the _Rachel._ Smart girl. Santo was watching everything go down with a slack-jawed look of open surprise. He was not a smart girl, but he was at least endearing.

I turned back around, watching Estrid throw her vial up in the air again. This time, Lirem visibly stiffened. <What a fun little experiment that would be... I always try to think creatively. After all, that is the attitude that afforded me a suicide trip to a backward planet. Imagine the possibilities. By my estimation, I could decimate the population of Homeworld in less than four hours. If, _if_ I felt so inclined. >

She threw her vial up in the air. Lirem took a few steps forward. <But of course,> she said demurely, <I’m just a silly morph dancer with only a small aptitude for the sciences. I’m sure I made a few miscalculations. Perhaps this will do little more than add a certain attractive sheen to our fur for a few weeks. That would be pleasing, would it not?>

She caught her vial. I realized I was tensing and relaxing every time she did that. Lirem was visibly distressed.

<If I am truly so naive and ill-suited for the sciences, then you have nothing to fear.>

She threw the vial in the air again. Lirem shouted <Stop!>

Estrid caught the vial. She smirked.

There was an anxious pause, and then Lirem said, <Lower your weapons.>

The Andalites did, all very slow and methodical, as if they were afraid of moving too fast. I pretty much feel the same way.

“Hey, uh, do humans have an immunity to this shit, or should we run back into the ship, curl up in a ball, and start sucking our thumbs?” I asked Estrid. “And also can I do that anyway.”

<I’m not sure about humans,> she said. <Let’s see.> She tossed the vial up in the air, this time much, much higher than she’d been doing. Everyone at Illeriphan tensed like we were in some big giant coordinated dance video. Estrid did the creepiest version of the Andalite eye smile I have ever seen, and she watched as the vial hit the floor.

It made a small, tinkling noise, like coins falling on sidewalk.

It shattered on contact.

There was a massive intake of breath, both Andalite and human. Just before people could start panicking, a wave of mirth washed over me. It came from Estrid. It must be some kind of Andalite laughter.

<Oh, there was hardly enough serum in that little test tube to be a threat!> Estrid said. <Please. Even someone who has zero understanding of the sciences should know that. No, that is not where I put my work.>

Suddenly, _t_ he _Rachel_ started to vibrate. All of us looked up at once to notice the ship’s canons adjusting their position.

< _That_ is where I have hidden my art, > she said smugly.

She sent a wave of confidence across Illeriphan, just like the wave of mirth. She wasn’t bluffing. There was no way to hide a lie in that amount of sureness.

I knew fear. I grew up so afraid and for so long that my brain just pumps fear into my body at any and every interval, assuming I’ll probably need it. I knew fear in many forms. Fear that the entire human race could be slowly and methodically enslaved by a race of hyper-technical slugs without ever ever noticing? Check. Fear that at any point I could lose a close friend, but that would also mean losing a fellow soldier in the only force fighting an alien invasion and how that was so, so much worse? Check. Fear of my own death leading to my father giving up on his life? Check. I knew fear intimately. I knew fear at all of its layers, from when it’s useful to when it’s ugly to when it’s deadly. That is why I knew, without question, that the fear of a woman who was ready, willing, and _prepared_ to commit biological warfare on her own people was a fear unlike any other.

Estrid went beyond crazy. She wasn’t struggling or a little unstable. Estrid was intelligent, and capable, and _deranged._

The Rachel vibrated again as the canons shifted position just slightly. I felt my insides grow cold.

Lirem was looking at Estrid with the exact emotions I felt. <If you fire those, then you will die too.>

<Oh?> said Estrid. <So you admit I have more than ‘some small talent’?> she asked.

<Yes,> said Lirem, slow and pleading. <We used you not because you were not a genius, but because your genius had not yet been recognized.>

<And while the disappearance of a renowned scientist would be noted, no one would miss a morph dancer,> said Estrid, proud and imperious.

<Exactly,> said Lirem, still speaking very carefully.

<Thank you for admitting that,> said Estrid, and she sounded earnest. <Now, I have an investment in this small bird,> she said, gesturing toward Tobias, who always looked a _little_ terrified due to the nature of his dumb bird face, but he looked _extra_ upset right now.  <And the bird has an investment in these humans, and these humans have an investment in Prince Aximili and his _vecol nothlit_ . Bring them to me, and I will remove the humans, this ship, Aximili, and the _vecol nothlit_ from this planet. >

I wanted to remind everyone of Menderah’s name again, because he’d gone on an impossible mission on a half hope to find the Captain Kirk to his Spock and even _I_ can admit that’s romantic as all fuck. But I didn’t speak up, I didn’t joke, I didn’t remind, because Estrid-Corill-Darath was inches from me. She was a new brand of creature. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned when that woman is also a super genius and also she can load biological weapons into canons.

Lirem moved just one eye stalk toward his second in command. <Retrieve them,> he said.

The not-Lirem Andalite left. He didn’t come back for nearly ten minutes. They were the most nerve-wracking, emotionally exhausting ten minutes of my life. No one spoke, not even me. There was no lightening of this particular mood. Estrid was on our side, but only because she wanted to experiment on Tobias. It wasn’t the most solid alliance I’d made in my life, and I once left a girlfriend alone with Leonardo DiCaprio. I’d stay quiet.

Eventually, the second banana returned with Ax and Menderash. Neither of them looked particularly happy. Menderash was bandaged in at least six different ways, and was giving off an aura of proud and quiet rage. He looked like a statue with a very angry spirit trapped inside. Ax just looked sleepy, which either meant they’d caught him in the middle of a power nap or that he’d been drugged to shit. I knew which one I wanted it to be, and I knew which one it actually was.

They walked up the ramp to the _Rachel,_ Menderash in the lead, gently guiding Ax with his hand on Ax’s back. Ax tripped coming up on the ramp, which the ever-lithe and one-armed Menderash wasn’t quite equipped to deal with. Santo and Jake ran down to help him out, and together they got Ax into the ship.

Estrid lingered outside. I waited for her, not fully trusting her not to do something completely batshit. Jeanne stayed with me. We gave each other a quick, mutual look that meant both ‘if she tries anything, we stop her, no matter what’ and also ‘so we’re fucked, right?’ I knew I liked her.

Estrid took a moment for herself, clearly gloating and soaking in the scene she’d created. It must be a powerful feeling, having hundreds of Andalite soldiers all cowering in fear of her. I didn’t like how much she was enjoying it.

<Do you know who is piloting this ship?> she asked Lirem. <Do you know who aided me in procuring and repairing it?> asked Estrid.

<No,> said Lirem.

<Jahar-Lathir-Niambeen,> said Estrid. <You have kept her from her husband for far too long, for no reason other than to punish her.>

Lirem said nothing. Estrid smiled again.

<Remember this embarrassment, Lirem-Arrepath-Terrouss. Remember this shame. Remember this day. Remember it, and next time, do not underestimate women.>

Estrid turned and walked on to the ship. Jeanne and I followed.

The door closed behind us. Menderash was whispering to Ax, urging him to morph. Ax’s whole body was leaning to one side, slack and disconnected, and I knew he wasn’t going to hear a damn word Menderash said for at least a few hours. Jahar’s voice came from the ship’s speakers. <This ship was patched in haste,> she said. <But it should get us to Earth.>

“Good. Fine. Good,” said Jake, scrambling to find some sort of control of this situation. “Deploy the cannons into Z-space. There’s no need to keep that stuff on the ship.”

<Of course,> said Estrid, as if Jake had suggested wiping down a kitchen counter when she was already holding a washcloth. As if it were all that simple, and she hadn’t just invented a death poison.

“Well,” I said, “Assuming they didn’t take all our stuff off the ship, I should still have some booze in my cabin. Let’s all get very drunk.”

Santo and, surprisingly, Jake and Jeanne nodded in agreement.

Then, suddenly, Ax snapped to attention. His eyes were lucid and he stood steady and straight.

DO NOT FORGET OUR DEAL, JAKE THE YEERK KILLER, said The One. YOU TOOK SIX MONTHS TO FIND ME. YOU MAY HAVE SIX MONTHS BEFORE SEEKING ME AGAIN.

Ax went slack, all at once, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.


	12. Jake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to [Catie](http://c-rowlesdraws.tumblr.com/), who helped beta this chapter along with Cavatica.

We got back to Earth with a shatter, landing awkwardly in the middle of the Mojave. Marco made a few calls and got us all rides back to California. He took Menderash to a hospital to get medical treatment that may be archaic by Andalite standards but at least was specialized for humans. Ax, Jeanne, and the Sergeant went with him. Estrid and Jahar went to find Alloran. Tobias went to Loren’s. I went home.

I’m not sure what I expected to find back on Earth. I guess I expected a feeling of homecoming, of belonging. I knew that if I found Ax, I’d have to step back into my house and experience my own change. I imagined myself walking in and looking at all of my furniture, looking all of my little decorations and knick knacks and affects, and feeling something _new_ about them. Either that they were home and they were mine, or that they never were, and I had moved past such things.

I walked into my house. I flipped on a light. The house wasn’t terribly dusty. I’d left instructions with my parents to have a maid come in and keep things clean. I could see fresh vacuum lines in the carpet. The throw blanket I kept on my couch was smoothed out and placed with care. The whole place smelled of lemons and laundry.

I stood in my doorway and breathed. In, out; in, out. The air was not stuffy, not quite, but it was sun-warmed and still. I walked forward, and set down a bag with all the belongings I’d brought onto the _Rachel._

There was a soft thudding with every step I took. Not a creak, not in my newly built house, but a small noise, like a gentle an acknowledgment that my feet had moved.

I walked to my couch and grabbed the throw blanket. I turned on the TV, flipping idly through channel after channel, landing primarily on commercials. I curled my knees up to my chest.

My landline started ringing. I ignored it.

I was home, finally home, and I felt nothing.

 

I stayed on my couch for nearly twenty-four hours, sleeping in fitful bursts. I had relentless nightmares and constant haunted thoughts. Eventually, I got up and went to the grocery store. I bought cereals and Hungry Man dinners. I wasn’t ready to deal with my own return, so I morphed a one of the military guys I’d acquired before leaving my car. The cashier looked at the name on my credit card. I made a smile at him. “Yeah, I know,” I said. “Same name.”

They were the only words I’d said since returning to Earth.

They were the only words I’d say for the next few weeks.

 

* * *

 

It was April 27th, around five months after we returned from Andalite. There wasn’t anything particularly notable about that day, other than that Marco was doing the _Late Show_ and had demanded I watch. My sleep schedule had gone out of whack again, and I’d ended up crashing on my couch. I sat up, acclimating myself to the surprising darkness. It was night, which I didn’t expect. I’d fallen asleep sometime in the afternoon. My eyes fell on my clock, and I swore. I’d accidentally slept through the first half of Marco’s _Late Show_ interview. I needed to make sure I to make sure I caught the last of it, or else he’d be pissed.

I turned on the TV and found CBS. As soon as I landed on the channel, I saw Marco. It was always a little bizarre seeing Marco on TV. In real life, he wore sarcastic graphic tees from Hot Topic, hoodies, and jeans. On TV, he was designed by a stylist and looked like he stepped out of a magazine. Studio lighting made him look too sharp and clean, like he was a mythical being painted with bold brush strokes and not an actual person I used to see every day.

He was speaking to Letterman, though he wasn’t really speaking to Letterman. I’ve been on these shows. They tell you to sort of point your body toward a camera that was kind of in the host’s eyesight and to look at that camera or the audience more than the host. It’s a really weird way to have a conversation. Marco was way better at it than me.

“—probably have heard by now. You know. That we’re going to meet our Andalite friends in our very first home-built space machine,” Marco said. The audience clapped and cheered. Marco turned to face them directly and grinned. He let the applause go on for a while, and then he gestured to the crowd to calm down. They did, dutifully.

Marco paused for a bit, an expression of nerves and reluctance slowly deepening across his face. “And, uh. Dave,” he said, turning toward Letterman and speaking to him with sudden direct eye contact. Letterman reacted with a careful sort of smile that made me think Marco had gone off script. “You and I have a great relationship,” said Marco.

“I’d say so,” agreed Letterman. He continued to regard Marco with caution.

“I grew up watching you, man,” said Marco, and with that I knew he was being wholly and entirely sincere. When Marco talked about his childhood in public, it was with a particular exaggeration. He used his mother’s death as a rousing call to action, used his time in the war as a comfort to others, and used his lack of education as joke. He rarely, if ever, talked about something as simple as his actual passions as a child. Dave looked somewhat taken aback. Marco gave him a quirk of a smile, and adjusted his weight in his seat, showing a sincere anxiety. Now, with Marco, that meant it was a calculated show of sincere anxiety, but sincere all the same. “So I wanted to make a big announcement. Do you mind?”

“Are you about to give me a massive ratings spike?” asked Letterman.

“Huge,” said Marco.

Letterman laughed. “Then go.”

Marco took a deep breath. “Look,” he said, “I like my job, I do. Nothing’s better than show business. But my old job—you know, being an Animorph—well, it didn’t pay as well, but it meant something to me. That’s why I went with Jake to rescue Prince Aximili. The whole superhero thing was calling to me again.”

“Of course,” said Lettermen, keeping himself blank to allow Marco to shine. And shine he did. The whole audience was captivated. It was like a blanket of tension had covered the studio, and I could feel it all the way from my couch.

“So I’ve decided to leave Earth again,” said Marco. Everything went pin drop silent as the audience tried to piece together the sort of moment they were in. “Last time, it was to save my buddy Ax. This time, it’s to be an ambassador of Earth. Jake Berenson and I are leaving to do treaty work with other alien species, to help build alliances and make Earth a planet to be respected.”

The audience started to cheer. I raised an eyebrow at the TV screen. “Are we?” I asked rhetorically.

“Well, not really,” said Marco from my kitchen.

I yelled in surprise. Marco laughed.

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked, annoyed and frustrated.

“Long enough,” said Marco. He waltzed over to my couch and flopped down next to me. He picked up a half eaten box of Wheat Thins that was on my coffee table. “Let me guess. This is the first meal you’ve had in two days?”

I snatched the box from him. “You can’t just barge in like this.”

“You gave me a key.”

“I gave you a key because you can morph and it’s just easier for us both. Seriously, man, why not use the doorbell?”

“Where’s the drama in that?” said Marco.

“What if I was naked?” I asked.

Marco grabbed the box of Wheat Things from me and opened it up. “I wouldn’t have cared,” he said. He popped a cracker into his mouth and spoke around it. “We grew up together. In spandex. I’ve seen your dick, you’ve seen mine. They’re good friends.”

I took the box back from him and glared. “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Is it?” asked Marco.

I sighed. I leaned back against my couch and stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t want you to come with me,” I said, my voice coming out quiet and soft.

“Too late,” said Marco derisively, taking the box back. He ate another wheat thin. “I just told all of America that I’m peacing out of Earth. Can’t go back now. That’s embarrassing.” He swallowed, then continued. “Well, I told them at, like, noon, and then it aired just now. Finding out that late night shows aren’t actually live is still one of the biggest disappointments of my life.”

I rubbed at my nose, then stood up and walked to my kitchen. Marco continued to speak as I left, raising his voice to make sure I heard him. “I’ve been working with NASA on the ship. They’re fixing it up as they go along, gutting it and studying its insides. I’m bringing in specialists who are making sure living in the ship won’t be a completely miserable experience. I’m getting rid of the black on black on black color scheme, I’m putting in fancy lights that help with mood shit, I’m converting the Yeerk pool into an actual pool so it’s not just a creepy room we all avoid. By the time I’m done, the _Rachel_ is going to feel like a spa.” He smiled a little. “We named the ship after Rachel because it was beautiful and dangerous. The interior should honor her impeccable fashion sense.”

I returned from the kitchen, holding a mixing a bowl. “Don’t do all that for me,” I said, staring straight at Marco. “Please.”

“It’s not just for you, man,” said Marco, avoiding my gaze. “Everyone is coming. Everyone. Even Jeanne, for all she bitched about it. Complaining about something, doing it anyway, and continuing to complain? The accent isn’t fake, people; she really _is_ French.”

I sat next to Marco on the couch and fell down harder than I wanted, as if my body was so weighed down by the news that it was suddenly much heavier. “I don’t want anyone else to come,” I muttered.

“Oh well,” said Marco, grabbing the mixing bowl from me and setting it on the coffee table. “I’ve already gutted all the big cabins and made a bunch of little ones. We had to get a little creative with the storage space, so it’ll basically be the college dorm experience we’ll never have. Loft beds, Jake. Loft beds.”

I ran my hands down my face, feeling something between frustration and relief. “This wasn’t my plan,” I muttered.

“Fuck your plan,” said Marco, quick and biting. “Your plan was to trick The One into a trap, taking the both of you down in one swoop. Well, fuck that. We didn’t single-handedly save the planet from a secret alien invasion for you to martyr yourself over a threat that we haven’t even fully analyzed. We’re better than that. _You’re_ better than that. If we can stop an alien invasion, we can stop some cheap knock off Borg from going on a joyride with some random Yeerk ship.”

I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. “He’s way more dangerous than that,” I said.

“I know,” said Marco.

I kept my eyes closed. “I’m going to feel guilty if I don’t try and change your mind.”

“Okay,” said Marco. “Go ahead.”

“Marco, please change your mind,” I said.

“Nope,” said Marco cheerfully.

I wasn’t sure how I felt. On some level, I always knew at least Marco would come with me. I hadn’t consciously thought about it, but I knew. I felt a vague sense of relief, like some small part of me was appreciating the logic of working with the group again. Another part of me was annoyed that I wasn’t allowed to take care of The One by myself. Kamikaze was the easiest and simplest solution to this problem. Couldn’t Marco see that?

The rest of me felt nothing.

I leaned over and poured the Wheat Thins into the bowl. “Was there any resistance from NASA with me taking back the ship?” I asked while chewing on a Wheat Thin.

Marco took another handful of crackers. “Surprisingly, no. They’ve been really easy to work with. It helps that Menderash has been gleefully breaking Seerow’s Kindness and sharing tons of tech with Earth. He went on a whole rant about it,” Marco said. “About how the Electorate needs to be kept in check, and how humanity is an important influence for homeworld. It went on for a very, very long time. Even Ax had to stop pretending to be interested.”

“How’s he doing?” I asked. “With the whole--” I motioned toward my arm.

“Really damn well, actually,” said Marco. “He’s actually made a few cool prosthetics that respond to thought. Like, actual thought. Something about reading brain waves, I’m not sure, it all went well above my prestigious eighth grade education.”

I laughed a little. “So he got his Luke Skywalker hand after all,” I said.

“Kind of,” said Marco. “He and Ax have been staying with me, and Menderash basically takes off his prosthetic as soon as he’s home. He invented the best damn robot arm Earth has ever seen, and then he ignored it. He says it’s useful but imperfect, and he’d rather just use the arm that has a direct line to the brain with no interference or programming bugs. But honestly? I think it’s because he likes ordering Ax around. He makes him hold, like, everything. It’s probably some kind of weird Andalite service kink.”

“Ew, Marco,” I said, looking at Marco with the most exasperated expression I could muster. Marco just grinned. I grabbed another Wheat Thin.

“Is everyone else staying with you?” I asked. “You _do_ own a castle.”

“It’s not a castle,” said Marco. “It is a mere contemporary style modern-chic open concept mansion with mid-century elements. Between the Andalite lovers, the servants, and my mom when she’s in L.A., it gets surprisingly crowded.”

“I doubt it does,” I said.

“I said surprisingly,” said Marco. “I gave Jeanne and Santo a small stipend. Jeanne doesn’t check in, but I know she’s staying at the Belmond El Encanto. Honestly, I _have_ to admire someone that takes my money and spends it in style without saying a word to me. I would have done the same.”

I nodded. “Sounds like her,” I said.

Marco grinned. “Santo’s a much simpler man. He’s staying in some apartment with his best friend. The Grace to his Will,” explained Marco, “If Grace was a terrifying stone butch lesbian. And when I say terrifying, I mean that sexually. She’s got the upper body strength of a demi-god. Tobias is splitting his time between Loren, Ax, and his old woodland friends. He hasn’t exactly reentered society but, you know. He’s doing better.”

“That’s good,” I said distantly. Tobias had actually tried to visit me once, but I pretended not to see him. He got the hint.

“Did Jahar find Alloran?” I asked, almost surprising myself with the knowledge that I was invested in their story.

“Oh yeah,” said Marco. “She’s working with Cassie now.”

That made me smile a little. Cassie’s whole inner circle was comprised of people who had been directly affected by the war, and she had a great relationship with Alloran. She also worked with Mertil, Ms. Ruiz (who I still had a hard time calling Eva), and a handful of other ex-hosts from Santa Barbara. Cassie was dedicated to supporting programs that helped these people find stability, and happily put her money where her mouth was. Dating or not dating, I admired her passion for kindness. It never shrank during the war because she had never let it.

Marco glanced at me, his expression growing suddenly apprehensive. “Also, uh. Quick thing. So the whole gang’s coming, plus Ax, and plus one more person.”

My eyes narrowed. “Who?” I asked. “I already told Cassie—”

“It’s not Cassie,” said Marco quickly, like he was pulling off a band-aid. “It’s Estrid.”

I blinked. “Could you repeat that?” I said. “Because I think you just said Estrid.”

“Oh, I did,” said Marco bitterly. “Estrid’s smart. She’s really, really smart. And she promised us wild medical advances in exchange for passage on the _Rachel._ Like, really important stuff. Cancer? You know cancer? Forget about cancer. Estrid got rid of cancer.”

“All cancer?” I asked. “Every cancer?”

Marco waved his hand. “Enough of them,” he said. “She knocked out AIDS while she was at it, and a ton of other viruses. From here on out, all our Oscar-winning movies will have to be about allergies.”

“Shit,” I said, which was probably an odd reaction to hearing about miraculous medical discoveries, but Marco understood me.

“Yep,” said Marco. “Our hands are tied on this one. I’m not happy about it either, but I’ve got a couple of ideas on how to make sure she doesn’t murder us all in our sleep.” He stared at me pointedly. “You could come to NASA with me,” he said. “I could show you what I’ve been working on.”

I sighed, shifting in my chair and shaking my head. “I can’t.”

Marco’s expression immediately clouded over. “Why,” he said. “What else do you have going on? Are you going to move from watching TV on your couch to watching TV on your bed? That is a pretty big deal, I should give you some space to prepare.”

“I can’t, not right _now_ ,” I said softly, “But I’ll try.” I paused. “Hey. Tobias told me you used to sort of date Ax, and then you dated Collette.”

Marco stopped pacing and whipped his head toward me, his mouth open in shock and surprise. “ _What?_ ” he asked, his tone sharp and dangerous. I’d said something he didn’t expect and he did _not_ like it.

“I never knew,” I said.

Marco ran a hand through his hair, looking out of my window with a wild sort of frustration. Marco was rarely caught off guard, and never responded well to it. “Jesus. Why are you bringing shit like that up? Fuck. That was years ago. Man. Look, Ax and I—we never really _dated_ . We were both just bored. We started messing around. It never went any further than that, there weren’t any, like, sweeping confessions of love or anything. We jerked each other off a few times and he gave me a sloppy blow job. None of it was great. Neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing. We don’t talk about it. Collette, you know, that was— _fuck_ , Jake. We both knew we were an _extra_ doomed Romeo and Juliet. Neither of us had any doubts about it. Either one or both of us was going to kick it. When it happened, I was ready for it, and I got over it.”

“You never told me,” I said calmly.

“Of course I didn’t!” said Marco, his voice rising in pitch. “You were going through your own thing. Why are we talking about this? I’m not going to pour a glass of chardonnay and giggle about my cute teen romances. I don’t love that my first kiss was with an alien who was more lonely than interested, and that my first girlfriend died four days after we slept together for the first time.”

He was brash and defensive, but he was also something close to sincere. I don’t think he’d ever talked to anyone about Ax or Collette, not to me or anyone else. He probably hadn’t even internally processed it. All his feelings were pouring out without his permission. That was making him mad at himself, and when he was mad at himself, he took it out on someone else. I had about thirty seconds to distract him before he started in on me. I leaned toward my coffee table and opened a drawer, taking out a pack of Marlboros.

Marco’s face went from guarded and angry to purely shocked. “What the hell are you doing?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“Get used to it,” I said, lighting up the cigarette. I inhaled, exhaled, then leaned forward. I watched the smoke rise from the cigarette, thick and curling and slightly gray. “Look,” I said, speaking slowly. “I want to be a better friend. I hate that I didn’t know about Ax and Colette, and I never want to find out something like that four years late ever again. I’m not in a good place right now, but when I am, I’ll call you. Okay? And I mean that. Whenever I’m ready, I’ll come to NASA. But not today. That’s all I can give you for now.”

Marco stared out the window, his breath coming out steady and slow, like he was forcing himself to be calm. Then, he sighed, and turned toward me. “I feel like I’m in _Seventh Heaven._ If you’re done with your weird end of episode monologue, I’ve got a gig early tomorrow, so I’m going to go.”

I nodded. “Sounds good.” I knew there was no gig. I breathed in smoke. Marco rolled his eyes.

“That’s _so_ gross,” he said.

“Haven’t you done, like, every drug?” I said.

He pointed at me, suddenly stern, as if he were a father giving sage advice. “Not meth. Not even once.” He ran his hand through his hair and looked toward the door. “I’ll see you when you’re ready. I guess.”

“Hey,” I said, just as Marco opened the door. He turned and looked at me, annoyed.

“What?” he said, his voice clipped and taut. He really needed out.

“I’ve been asking around about the climate in Washington,” I said. “And you were right, about everything. I have no idea where we’d be if we’d gone to the Earth embassy on Andalite. Thank you.”

Marco took a deep breath, let it out, and stared at me for a moment. Then he muttered, “Yeah, anytime,” and walked out the door. He didn’t necessarily slam it, but he definitely shut it with more force than necessary.

I laid back down on the couch. I turned on my TV and flipped through channels until I found a _Cheers_ marathon. It was mindless and mundane, and I watched it without comprehending. I fell asleep.

 

I dreamed.

I dreamed I was a bird, and that I was flying toward the ocean, fighting against the stale night air with burning falcon wings. I dreamed I landed on a small gathering of rocks, a tiny island I vaguely remember from childhood, an island nearly impossible to find without hollow bones and too- sharp eyes.

I dreamed I demorphed, then morphed shark, and I dreamed that I fell into the water before I was ready. My small human lungs were underwater too long, and they started to burn. I began to panic. I tried to wake up.

That’s when I realized I wasn’t dreaming.

It wasn’t like when The One controlled our morphs. It wasn’t even like when Temrash 144 infested me. This was was a different sort of control. It was like a more extreme version of the times when I drove back from the grocery store and got home without really remembering the trip at all. I was moving, and it felt like my idea, and it was my brain that was making me morph and making me swim, but all of it was automated.

I swam and swam and swam. Vaguely, I registered that I was joined by four other sharks; three hammerheads, one tiger shark. None of us spoke.

I swam until I had passed the one hour mark, the time I should have swum back up. I started to panic in a vague way, like my fear had been confined to a glass box and my screaming came out muffled and distant. I continued to swim. Deep, deeper, deepest.

In time, I saw a glow. There was a greenhouse on the ocean floor, curved and smooth and impossible. We swam to it, and it let us into a chamber. We demorphed as one while the water began to drain, and again as one we walked inside the Dome.

Marco. Tobias. Ax.

Cassie.

Ax walked in front of us, slow and unsure. He broke the silence. <Impossible,> he said.

Marco pointed at the grass. “Purple,” he said with a sneer. He pointed at a tree. “Red.” He pointed at a nearby pond. “Water.” He looked behind him. “Anyone else have some real keen observations? Hey, Cassie.” He nodded an acknowledgment at her, as if they were roommates and she’d just walked in the door. She returned his nod, then went back to staring up through the glass.

Ax ignored Marco, walking further into the field. <This is the same Dome from the _GalaxyTree_ ,> he said softly. <I will never forget this place. It seems… smaller, somehow.>

“Well,” said Marco. “I, too, have some pretty vivid memories, and it’s of this Dome blowing up _real_ big.”

Tobias pushed himself off the ground and fluttered toward Cassie, landing on her shoulder. She absently stroked the place between his eyes that Rachel used to scratch. Tobias rubbed his head against her cheek. She smiled, soft and sad. Her eyes flicked toward me. She saw me watching her, and she immediately looked away. “I was in D.C.,” she said. “You guys were in SoCal. How did we end up here?”

“Oh, Mr. Ellimist!” said Marco, walking to the middle of the field with his arms outstretched. “You’ve got some ‘splaining to do!”

And then he—she—they appeared, but not in the way they had before. They weren’t an old man, or a kid from class. They were a presence and a force and a feeling, with no need for visual context.

IT IS BECAUSE YOU HAVE GROWN, they said, without waiting for our reactions or questions, YOU NO LONGER REQUIRE A SUPERFLUOUS AVATAR.

I looked at Cassie. She was comforting Tobias with a purpose now, her hand resting lightly on his body. He was visibly shaking.

We were standing in a Dome that had been destroyed, all of us coming from every corner of the country, but we were five and not six. We were reunited, but not whole, and the Ellimist could change that if they so chose.

I COULD NOT, they said. I AM BEHOLDEN TO PROMISES.

“Bullshit,” said Marco.

PROMISES BIND US ALL, BUT PROMISES ARE FRAGILE. THE GLASS AROUND YOU PROMISES TO PROTECT YOU FROM THE OCEAN, AS YOUR LUNGS PROMISE TO PLUCK OXYGEN FROM THE AIR AND SHARE IT WITH YOUR BLOOD. PROMISES KNIT TOGETHER ATOMS, BREATHE LIFE INTO CELLS. IF I DO NOT REMAIN BEHOLDEN TO MY PROMISE, THEN OTHER PROMISES MAY SHATTER. YOU WILL NOT LIKE WHICH ONES WILL BREAK FIRST.

That silenced us, to some extent. You’d be surprised how easy it is to argue with an all-powerful being when you are confronted with one, but it took a certain frenzied rage to really get you there. Right now, we were all sort of recovering from the trance of finding the Dome, and of the shock of the Dome itself. Even Tobias seemed to accept the Ellimist’s excuse, at least for now.

I DO NOT COME TO YOU TO SPEAK OF WHAT CANNOT BE UNDONE, said the Ellimist. I CAME TO SPEAK OF WHAT MUST BE AVOIDED. THERE WAS A PATH TO THIS TIMELINE, AND THAT PATH HAS CHANGED. THAT WAS NOT A CHOICE MADE BY ANY BEING I TRUST.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

FOUR OF YOU WERE MEANT TO DIE ON THE RACHEL. ALL FOUR OF YOU LIVE.

There was a soft and surprised sound from Cassie, as if something had just clicked in her mind. The rest of us were silent in a dark and jagged way, all of us having thoughts about the Ellimist’s words, and all of us quickly trying to have different thoughts that were more comfortable.

Marco broke the silence. “Well,” he said, with a careful mocking tone I knew was actually a sort of panic for him, “If this is about going back in time and dying instead, I’m going to go ahead and vote no. What the hell does it matter, anyway? All you and your asshole buddy Crayak ever do is fuck with us, so this is just another piece of fuckery! Go cry about it to Zeus and Satan, or whoever your friends are.”

NOT QUITE, MARCO. I HAVE SHOWN YOU ALTERNATE TIMELINES. I HAVE GIVEN YOU SMALL GIFTS IN THIS ONE, AND ALLOWED YOU TO MAKE YOUR OWN CHOICES REGARDING THEM. I HAVE NOT, NOR WILL I , DIRECTLY MANIPULATE THIS PARTICULAR UNIVERSE WITHOUT PERMISSION. IT IS SOMETHING THAT GOES DEEPER THAN THE PROMISES BETWEEN GRAVITY AND MATTER. IT IS SIMPLY NOT DONE. IF SOMETHING WERE TO BEGIN DOING IT, THE CONSEQUENCES WOULD BE BEYOND CATASTROPHIC.

I noticed, in a vague way, that I was leaning against a tree. I rubbed at the bridge of my nose, relieving tension. “What do you mean, this particular universe? Are there other universes?”

I HAVE SHOWN THEM TO YOU BEFORE, said the Ellimist. IN DREAMS. IN GLIMPSES.

“Like when he showed us how shitty a world where the Yeerks took over would be,” said Marco, bitterly, “Got all our damn hopes up about eating bamboo shoots and napping in an alien zoo until we died, then you didn’t do shit about it.”

“Why does this universe matter more than others,” said Cassie, in a soft but commanding way only she could pull off.

WHEN LIFE BEGAN, WHEN THERE WAS A STUMBLE AND A CRY AND A BANG, THE FIRST UNIVERSE WAS BORN. SHE GREW AND GREW AND GREW, AND AS SHE GREW, SHE CAME UPON CHOICES. SHALL I LET LIGHT THROUGH HERE? OR CLOSE MYSELF OFF, TO ALLOW LIGHT TO SPREAD ELSEWHERE, AND WARM OTHER PARTS OF ME? THE UNIVERSE DID NOT MUCH LIKE CHOICES, SO WHEN SHE WAS FACED WITH ONE, SHE SIMPLY CHOSE BOTH. SHE WOULD SPLIT IN TWO, AND WATCH THE PATHS OF HER DECISIONS, AND DECIDE WHICH ONE SHE LIKED BEST. SHE WOULD FOLLOW THAT PATH, THEN COME ACROSS A NEW CHOICE, AND SPLIT HERSELF ONCE AGAIN.

SOON ENOUGH SHE HAD BECOME SO MANY AND SO MUCH THAT SHE BEGAN TO LOSE TRACK OF HERSELF. SHE WOULD, AT TIMES, COME ACROSS ABANDONED PATHS OF WHICH SHE HAD NO MEMORY. SHE WOULD GLANCE AT THEM WITH SURPRISE AND DELIGHT, THEN MOVE ON, FOR SHE KNEW WHO SHE WAS AND WHERE SHE HAD GONE AND WHERE SHE WAS GOING.

YOU EXIST IN THE TIMELINE SHE CALLS HER OWN, said the Ellimist, YOU ARE THE TRUEST OF YOURSELVES, THE STRONGEST AND THE STURDIEST. THE UNIVERSE HAS NOT FORGOTTEN YOU. YOU ARE UNWAVERING IN SURENESS OF SELF.

<We are?> said Tobias.

IN A COSMIC SENSE, said the Ellimist. HARDLY EVER SO ON A DAY TO DAY BASIS.

<That was a very pretty story, but it has very little scientific basis,> said Ax, sounding surprisingly angry.

AS I CAN MANIPULATE TIME, I WOULD BE HAPPY TO GIVE YOU A MORE TECHNICAL DESCRIPTION. IT WOULD REQUIRE, AT MINIMUM, ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY-THREE EARTH YEARS OF YOU DOING NOTHING BUT STUDYING ADVANCED PHYSICS WHILE TRAPPED IN THIS DOME. WOULD YOU LIKE TO BEGIN?

Ax said nothing, but his tail went up to a battle position. I’m not entirely sure what that meant, other than that Ax was furious.

“So something has started manipulating the truest universe,” I said, trying to smooth over Ax’s reaction, “In a way that’s somehow different than what you are already doing. I think I have a feeling who this is about.”

YES, said The Ellimist. THE ONE IS NOT POWERFUL, BUT IT IS VERY, VERY YOUNG AND VERY, VERY STUPID. THE FIVE OF YOU PLAYED A MORE IMPORTANT PART IN THE UNIVERSE THAN MOST, BUT IT IS, ULTIMATELY, A VERY LARGE UNIVERSE. THE ONLY REASON THE ONE HAS BECOME SO OBSESSED WITH YOU IS DUE TO ITS TIME IN AXIMILI’S MIND, AND READING AXIMILI’S THOUGHTS.

I glanced at Ax. He looked back at me with his main eyes, his expression as blank as ever. He had, consciously or unconsciously, taken a few steps backwards, as if to separate himself from the group. Out of habit, I waited for Cassie to say something to him. Out of habit, she did.

“Marco filled me in,” she said, softly. “It’s not your fault, Ax.”

<I suppose,> said Ax, in a distant way that said he didn’t suppose at all.

“Great. Saving Earth wasn’t enough, now we have to save the whole universe? Are you here to give us new powers? I call telekinesis. I could reach insane heights of laziness with telekinesis. Bigger. Better. Weaker,” said Marco.

NO.

I stepped forward. I’m not sure why, seeing how the Ellimist was an all seeing force, and not a physical being I could intimidate by getting closer to them, but it made me feel better. “I made a deal with The One. He wants me, and only me. Leave everyone else out of it.”

THE CHOICE TO FACE THE ONE REMAINS UP TO EACH INDIVIDUAL, said the Ellimist. I HAVE COME TO EXPLAIN, AND TO APOLOGIZE.

<Apologize?> snapped Tobias. <For what? Letting us walk into a death trap that, oops, didn’t even kill us, but instead left us with some kind of all-powerful assassin from space who wants to play cat and mouse? I don’t care about that! That’s not the apology I want and you _know_ it! >

I CANNOT BRING BACK RACHEL, said the Ellimist.

<That is not why he is upset,> said Ax darkly.

YOU WERE ALL MEANT TO REST, said the Ellimist, apparently ignoring Ax and Tobias. I REGRET THAT THIS HAS HAPPENED.

Marco snorted. “Some rest,” he said. “Death isn’t exactly an afternoon nap. Personally, I’m good.”

I realize I’d started pacing. I stopped. “I don’t want explanations or apologies. I want help.”

THERE WILL BE HELP.

“No,” I said, my tone firmer, “I want real help. Tangible help. Help I can use.”

CASSANDRA, said the Ellimist. PLEASE. COME WITH ME.

“How is she supposed to go with you when you have no body—oh,” said Marco, blinking as a shimmering light appeared behind a grove of trees. Cassie walked toward it with her head held high, her movements confident and sure, as if nothing in the world was so mundane as a god asking for a private word. I smiled, warmed by her bravery, and I immediately stopped smiling when I saw Marco watching me.

Time stretched in an odd sort of way. I knew, with some sense in myself, that a good amount of it had passed. Something like an hour, maybe two, maybe a day. Yet, when Cassie walked away from that glowing light, it felt like it had been ten seconds.

She looked at me, her smile soft and sad now, and she said “Let’s go back.”

“How?” said Marco. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t really have time to Mapquest the directions back to Santa Barbara from here, sunny Where-The-Fuck-Are-We, Somewhere-At-The-Bottom-Of-The-Ocean, 2034 Hope-We-Don’t-Turn-Into-Sharks-Forever Lane.”

“Follow me,” said Cassie. “I remember the way. The Dome didn’t change positions, and we’re not that far from Santa Barbara.”

Marco grumbled, but the rest of us went to the Dome’s airlock, morphing as it filled up with water. We stayed behind Cassie, our leader in this new era, and we made it to the shore with no fuss. Tobias flew away immediately. Marco and Ax demorphed, morphed, then did the same. I stayed on the beach, curling my toes into the white, wet sand.

Cassie didn’t leave either. I sense feel her presence without having to look.

I dug my toes deeper into the sand. Sand and dirt are cousins, both of Earth, both hiding equal amounts of life and death in their depths. I dug and I dug, until half of my foot was submerged, until my feet were nearly buried.

Here, far from the docks, I could see the stars. I was rarely impressed by stars these days, but they set a sort of tone. Space was vast and full of suns and I was to embrace it and survive off of the stars and stars alone.

“I’m not going,” said Cassie. I craned my neck up, and looked at the moon.

“I know,” I said.

“The Ellimist said—”

“That you’re too important here on Earth,” I said. “I knew that the first time. You offered to go with me six months ago, and I told you not to, and you didn’t argue. I would tell you not to go this time, and you wouldn’t push the issue, and it’d be the same way with or without Ellimist intervention. You belong _here._ You’ll do good _here_.”

I heard her walk behind me. The sound was dull, a flat whisper of shifting sand. I felt her hand on my shoulder. I turned, and I faced her.

“When you left the first time, I—I _knew,”_ she said, “I knew you wouldn’t return. I mourned, and I couldn’t explain why, not really. I kept going to work, kept going to class, kept trying to keep myself together, but then I’d get home and I _couldn’t_. I’d fall apart, all into a million pieces, and Ronnie would try to clean me up. But he can’t, not when I’m like that. I’m not whole, Jake. I’ll never be whole. I’m just like you and Marco and Tobias and Ax, but I’m honest about it, and I don’t try to be anything else. I don’t think you understand that.”

She took my hands, and wrapped hers around them. They must have felt like weights to her, rocks that held her down. She looked down our interlocking fingers and smiled. “Do you want to know what I like the most about Ronnie?” she asked.

I blinked at her. That wasn’t exactly what I’d thought she say. “Do I get to say no?” I asked, more bitterly than I intended.

Cassie laughed softly. “He’s a lot of really wonderful things. Passionate, for one. The sort of person who would, I don’t know. Go on a hunger strike just because someone stepped on an exceptionally cute bumble bee.”

“Like you?” I asked.

Cassie smiled. “I guess. I like that passion. I like that’s he’s gentle. I like that he loves _Popeye the Sailor Man_ and _Gumby_ and other weird animated shows from the ‘60s. But honestly? He’s simple, Jake. He’s boring.”

I tilted my head a little. “This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had,” I said. “And one time Marco asked me if Porky Pig and Miss Piggy would make a good couple.”

She laughed softly. “Boring isn’t a bad word, not always. I would do anything to trade my current life for a boring childhood. When I say Ronnie’s boring, I don’t mean boring in that we can’t have a conversation. But he’s boring in that nothing bad has really happened to him. He’s got two brothers. His parents are still married. He’s from Iowa. So when I wake up in the middle of the night, screaming and half-wolf, tearing apart our mattress with my teeth? He’s there to comfort me, and he doesn’t scream along. When I get too dark or too sad to function and need a few days, he gives them to me, instead of overwhelming me with his own issues. He reads books on PTSD and talks to army wives. He knows more about how my brain functions than I do, and he never asks more of me than I can give, even though I ask so, so, _so_ much of him. It’s—” She paused. She took a deep breath and she looked up at me. The corners of her eyes glistened. “It’s happy and healthy and whole. We see a therapist together, once a week, and it keeps us stable. It’s not as romantic as dating my childhood general, but it’s solid, Jake. It’s solid.”

I swallowed and forced my hands away from her. “You don’t have to remind me that I’m messed up,” I said. “I’m aware.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” said Cassie firmly. “I’m not strong enough for _you._ Two broken people don’t really make one whole. It just makes an ugly jagged shape that hurts when you hold it.”

I sighed. “It’s getting late,” I said. “And by that, I mean it’s getting early.”

I pointed toward the horizon, which was glowing at the edges.

“It’s just—” she said, and then she sighed. “You have to go on this new quest. That’s not your fault, not directly. But you went on the first one, instead of trying to find something like a Ronnie. Not a romance, not exactly, but something sturdy. And when— _when—_ you get back from this second one, I want you to promise me, Jake. I want you to promise me that you’ll find something boring. Because I mourned you so, so deeply. And I am so, so glad that you’re alive.”

I wanted to say a lot of things. Things that were mean, things that pointed out that she’d used me as a leader, that she could move on because she had poured so much blood on my hands. I didn’t. I knew they all had their own guilt. It did no one good to dwell on it. So I thought of the times that she had held my hand and touched me with her soft skin. I studied her eyes in the lingering moonlight.

“I’ll try,” I said.

“Good,” she said. She nodded, just slightly, as if confirming the words with a promise, a promise we both knew I couldn’t keep. “Then go home and rest.”

“Okay,” I said.

“And when you get on the ship, go to Leera,” she said. “Ax won’t like it, but Leerans can see deep, deep into the brain, and whatever plans The One made in Ax’s body, a Leeran will be able to find them.”

“Is that what the Ellimist told you to say?” I asked.

She smiled. “In part,” she said.

She got up on her toes and kissed me, chaste and soft. “Please see me one more time before you leave,” she said, feathers already etching into her skin.

“I will,” I said.

I wouldn’t, and we both knew that.

 


	13. Epilogue

**MARCO**

 

It was a hot summer night and Jake and I were spending it gulping down beer and eating Fritos. It would have been the most normal thing in the world if we weren’t sitting on a highly classified rooftop in Cape Canaveral, watching the spaceship we helped steal, destroy, and then rebuild fly in from the ocean, a glass bubble the size of a Costco seemingly floating underneath it.

Were Jake and I supposed to be on this rooftop full of government secrets? No, but we’d had a long day. Well, he had. He’d gotten a whole grand tour of the  _ Rachel _ , complete with huge dumps of information that he had to memorize, on the spot, because some of it was so high security that it couldn’t be written down. He had to get his thumbprints and retinas scanned in, his voice recognized, his thought-speak signature recorded. He got to go in rooms at NASA that even I hadn’t been invited in, and I was producing this shebang. Not that I was bitter. I knew for a fact Jake would be exhausted, so I made sure we found a little place to relax in private. For us, that typically meant rooftops that were only accessible by janitors and repairmen and birds.

Besides, it was May 13th. Jake’s twenty-first birthday. He wasn’t exactly a go out to the bar kind of guy, but there was no way I was going to let this day pass without making sure he got a  _ little _ drunk. Just a little. I’m respectful.

I opened a can and shoved it into Jake’s hand. He hadn’t touched his second beer in almost ten minutes, which definitely meant it was empty. He looked down at it and sighed.

“I stayed up all night,” I said, sounding as dramatic and put upon as a I could, with was pretty dramatic and put upon. “Moving each can up here, individually, because an osprey can’t exactly carry a six pack. Or one twelve ounce can, really, but I made it work. You owe me.”

“I never asked you to do any of that,” said Jake.

“A man  _ cannot _ turn twenty-one without at  _ least  _ getting tipsy,” I said. I opened up another can for myself, even if I hadn’t finished my first. I can’t stand cheap beer, but it’s the only thing I can get Jake to drink. “I’m just doing my duty as your best friend.”

Jake shook his head and opened the beer. “This is the last one,” he said, looking at me accusingly.

“Of course,” I said, demure as anything. Jake continued to glare. I ignored him and watched as the  _ Rachel _ got closer, rapidly becoming close enough to identify details. It was a little hard to see at night, but 4 AM was the only time NASA could almost trust the  _ Rachel _ to pick the dome out of the ocean without a ton of reporters showing up. The rescued dome was softly lit from the inside, glowing a comforting light maroon that I could now identify as an Andalite mid-afternoon.

Jake’s eyes tracked the ship. “Do you think it’s going to fit?” he asked.

“What? The dome?” I asked.

“Yeah,” said Jake.

“Oh, it will,” I said. “That’s the whole thing. In no way should a standard size dome fit a Yeerk escort ship, but this one fits like Cinderella’s shoe. Ax was the one who figured it out. He wasn’t just full of wonder and nostalgia when he said the dome was smaller, it actually  _ is _ smaller, and it already has all the correct hook-ups to snap onto the  _ Rachel _ .” Jake raised an eyebrow. “Yep,” I said.

“Great,” said Jake dryly. “Thanks, Ellimist. Honestly, I would have preferred something else for my birthday. I need a new toaster.”

I laughed. “Oh, you don’t. I got this ship outfitted with the latest in everything. The latest in appliances, the latest in stereos, the latest in long term food storage for perishable products that the Yeerks had been working on before we took away all their humans. We got it all, Jake. Fanciest freezers in the galaxy.”

Jake looked over at me. “NASA paid for all that? Even the stereos?”

“About that,” I said. I slapped my hand down on Jake’s shoulder and looked him right in the eye, a look he returned with a pained patience. “I’m officially your broke friend. You owe me $6.99 for the beer.”

Jake’s expression immediately flipped into surprise. “Seriously?”

“Yep,” I said. “I left Mom and Dad enough to live on without lifting a finger, but everything else? Assets, liquidated. Investments, sold. Real estate, auctioned. I funded what NASA wouldn’t. I’m funding materials to safely solder the dome onto the  _ Rachel,  _ I worked with ex-hosts and Menderash on maintenance robots, I filled our store rooms with both necessities and luxuries. I even bought copies of every damn movie and TV show and book I could think of and had them converted to a digital form. The whole ship is now basically the Library of Congress.” I glanced over at Jake. “Happy birthday.”

Jake turned away from me and stared out into the sky, but I expected that. When he was genuinely touched, he always went blank. 

We watched in silence as the  _ Rachel _ gently dropped the dome on a giant scaffolding, then maneuvered herself underneath the structure. I watched as Menderash walked off the ship, flanked by some NASA nerds. While I couldn’t hear anything, I could tell by Menderash’s body language that he was barking orders. People scattered, off to do whatever Menderash desired. I grinned. Nothing was better than watching a well-dressed man wearing a prosthetic and high heels boss around the same sort of macho-geek guys that made fun of my mom’s accent. 

A gust of night wind hit us, dry and hot. I glanced over at Jake, who was still expressionless. I sipped from my beer.

“So,” I said. “Security.”

Jake looked at me, as if he were surprised I brought it up. “Yeah,” he said. “It was pretty boring. They’re really concerned about certain engineering secrets falling into the wrong hands. I guess Menderash, NASA, the Taxxons, and peaceful Yeerks have come up with a few innovations, weapons wise.”

“So I’ve heard,” I said dryly. “They won’t give me the clearance.”

Jake shrugged. “It makes sense,” he said. “It’s not relevant to you.”

I blinked, a little surprised at that reaction. He wasn’t wrong, but it felt a little callous. I leaned forward. “They’re also pretty adamant about me not knowing anything about inner ship security in general,” I said. “Menderash knows, and they let you in on it, but not me.”

“Do you really care?” asked Jake. He suddenly seemed incredibly focused on the edge of the rooftop.

“Yeah, I do,” I said, maneuvering myself to get into Jake’s eye line. “I’ve got millions of dollars in that ship. Besides, if anything happens to you, we’ll be shit out of luck.”

Jake walked to the edge of the rooftop and looked down at the ship. “Menderash has my clearance level,” he said.

I worked my jaw, trying to swallow down frustration. Jake was being incredibly avoidant about this topic and I had not one damn clue as to why. I stood next to Jake and looked down at the ship with him. We watched as Menderash gestured toward someone with his mechanical arm. “You know me, man, I don’t beat around bushes,” I said, my voice low and almost whispered. “If something goes wrong, it’s going to get Menderash well before it gets any of us.”

Jake’s face twisted in a sort of guilt ridden grimace, which made me grip my beer tighter. I could see the logic behind Jake blaming himself for Menderash’s amputation, but you couldn’t bring up Menderash’s status as a  _ nothlit _ either. He still managed to find a way to blame himself. The expression faded quickly, at least, which was an improvement. He raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re right. You don’t beat around bushes,” he said. He sighed. “Are you trying to ask for security clearance, Marco?”

“I am,” I said, keeping my tone even and serious. “You’re the Captain. You’ll need a Number One.”

Jake hesitated.

He looked away from me.

My stomach sank.

“Say something, man,” I said, trying hard to keep my tone light and jovial. My voice only cracked a little. “I’m basically down on one knee right now. It’s a lot to take in, I know, but we’ve been together for a few years now and I think it’s time to make it official.”

Jake paused for a moment, then suddenly rubbed at the back of his neck in an effort to look sheepish. It didn’t work. Jake’s a bad actor. “Wow, I had no idea you were interested in anything like that. My bad,” he said, acting way too casual. “I already told the NASA guys to hook Ax up. Normally you don’t like boring technical stuff while Ax is way into it.”

I set down my beer and the sound of it was like a door slamming. “Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked, no longer bothering to hide my bitterness. “I’ve pretty fucking involved in this remodel!”

Jake gave an exaggerated shrug and avoided looking at me. “Look, it doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like we really have positions or roles on the ship. You guys call me captain, but Ax and Menderash know way more about running a crew than I do. It’s all formality. Ax is going to be using all that security stuff way more than me.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “You’re not a fucking figurehead. You’re the fucking leader and you’re choosing  _ Ax _ as your second in command?  _ Ax _ ?”

Jake closed his eyes and breathed out, like this conversation was causing him some sort of physical pain. He grabbed his beer and finished it in one go. “Ax is a pPrince. A real one. He ran an  _ actual _ ship.”

I laughed out loud, the sound of it so sudden and so insensitive I almost surprised myself. “And what a prince he is,” I said, silky and smooth. “So good at his job that he killed an entire crew and lost his boyfriend’s body. My kind of general.”

Jake snapped backward, as if he’d been physically pushed. “That’s too far,” he hissed.

“Am I wrong?” I said, almost shouting.

Jake took a few steps toward me, trying to intimidate me with his whole general act. “It’s my call,” he said, low and commanding and final. “And that’s the call I’m making.” 

My mouth fell open in shock. For a moment, all I could do was stand and shake my head back and forth, like I was some sort of broken toy, like I was a useless childhood thing. Finally, I pushed my shoulders back and I looked up at Jake with all the rage and shock I felt. I said something I would only say to Jake, and only because I knew he’d internalize it. “I am genuinely fucking hurt,” I said, trying to control the shake in my voice.

Jake looked as if I’d slapped him. I immediately regretted saying it, but I didn’t take it back. I pressed my lips together, jaw set, glaring. Jake looked away from me, the picture of a kicked puppy. “Look,” he said, his voice getting softer. “Back on Andalite, you knew the military was acting suspiciously, but only because you  _ wanted _ them to. Marco, man, taking a spaceship to a junkyard isn’t any kind of remarkable.”

“Where the hell are you going with this?” I asked. “You’re just bringing up a time when I made the right call.”

“It was the right call,” said Jake. “By accident.”

“Fuck you,” I spat.

Jake looked back at me, his eyes clear and hard again, no longer a puppy and again a wolf. “As soon as you found  _ Voktra _ , you dropped your whole investigation and got swept up in the party,” he said, sounding like a father calling out a kid on coming home after curfew. “You get bored, and then you make up a problem to entertain yourself until something else comes along. You wanted a problem, so you found a problem, and as soon as you found something else to occupy yourself you dropped it.”

“ _ You’re _ the one who told me not to fixate on where the ship went!” I said. I realized my hands were in fists and I forced them to relax. When I did, I saw tiny white crescent moons where my nails had dug into my skin.  

“I did,” said Jake, once again the patronizing parent. “And if you were really your old self, sharp and bright and able to see everything with more clarity than everyone else, you wouldn’t have been so easily distracted.” 

I glared at Jake. “So if I’m following this correctly,” I said, careful to keep my voice even and calm, “You thought I was exaggerating about the Andalites taking the  _ Rachel _ somewhere suspicious, you told me I was exaggerating, and when I decided to believe you and get over it, you now consider that a mistake?”

Jake sighed and closed his eyes, as if he were in pain. “I wish you could see yourself with the same clarity you see everyone else,” he said, all grave and serious like he was in a soap opera. It was too much. I barked a laugh.

“What the fuck does that even  _ mean _ ?” I asked.

Jake opened his eyes and looked straight at me. “One week into being on the  _ Rachel, _ you broke into my cabin,” he said, as simple and plain as if he were telling me the time of day. “One week.”

I froze.

There was a loud crashing sound. Both Jake and I looked toward the ship at once. Something had fallen, some giant piece of machinery I couldn’t begin to explain. A bunch of guys ran over and started inspecting it.

Slowly, I turned away from the  _ Rachel _ and looked back at Jake. I took a deep breath. I tried not to feel like I had my hand in a forbidden cookie jar. “You knew?” I asked.

“Of course I knew,” he said, almost sounding offended.

I sighed and looked up at the sky. “Don’t be weird about it. We were on a ship with two morph-capable people we didn’t trust.”

“I trusted them,” said Jake.

“Sure, but I was just—”

“Marco, look,” said Jake, twisting his body so that he was staring at me directly. “You’re blunt with me. You’re  _ really _ blunt with me. Now it’s my turn, alright? You think  _ I’m _ not dealing with my shit? You’re paranoid and impulsive and you think if you just smile and talk your way out of it, no one will notice. I notice. A lot of us notice. I trust you with my life, but I don’t trust you with access to cameras and weapon controls. I’m sorry, but until you work on your shit, that’s just the way it’s going to be.”

I could  feel my heart rattling inside my chest, like it was fighting to get out and punch Jake in the face. I forced myself to breathe in and out, the sound raspy and angry. I clenched my teeth together so tight it hurt, as if I could keep all the cruel words I wanted to say sealed away by my molars. I could feel tears burning the backs of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wouldn’t give Jake the satisfaction. 

Jake grabbed the last Bud and opened it. I’m sure it was warm as hell and tasted even more like piss than usual. We sat there, two men fighting on a rooftop in Cape Canaveral; me fuming, him drinking.

Eventually, Jake finished his drink and set it down. “On a scale of one to ten, how angry at me are you?” he said, sounding tired and a little remorseful. It was something next door to an apology, an acknowledgement that things were fucked up and they weren’t okay. “Eleven? Twenty?”

Rage surged through me so quick and so strong it felt like I was getting pumped full of a divine power, like some god was pouring liquid anger into my body. I wanted to push Jake off the roof, then jump off to go after him, then beat him up when we got to the ground. I wanted to throw everything in his face, remind him of how shitty he’d been for the past three years, and finally let him know exactly how fucking lonely that made me feel. I wanted to write up a list of all the times I could have used him; my first bad interview, my first break-up, my parents’ divorce. I wanted to take that list and force feed it to him until he choked.

People keep judging me based on a bunch of mistakes I made when I was seventeen, when I really  _ was _ too paranoid and impulsive. Do you know what I did after that? Had a couple of kumbayah moments with my family, saw a shrink, got prescribed some crazy pills that I swallow down every damn day. What has Jake ever done to heal? Organized a suicide mission for him and all his friends! How dare he act high and mighty. How dare he act like I’m not stable and sure.

I forced myself to relax.

I made my expression angry, but soft.

I looked Jake straight in his eyes.

“Sixty-nine,” I said.

Jake blinked in surprise. I gave him a slow grin. He broke down laughing, the beer and the tension resulting in a complete and utter fit. My jaw was still clenched and my rage was at the surface, but that’s what I wanted. If I let it all go too soon, he’d know, even if he was stressed out and drunk.

“Look,” I said when he’d calmed down. “Yeah, I’m pissed as all hell, but fuck. It’s you, man. If this is your call, then this is your call.”

Relief washed over Jake’s face. He placed his hand on my shoulder. He was a pretty touchy guy when he was drinking, which was both endearing and weird as hell. I took a deep breath, forcing my anger down. My morph suit consisted of a jean patterned leggings and a black tank. His hand on my shoulder was nearly all skin to skin.

The sun peeaked up over a hill, casting a light that glowed gold. For a moment, I felt like I was back on the Andalite planet, stretching my legs and drinking in a red sky.

I leaned my head on Jake’s shoulder. He stayed still for a moment, dazed and calm. His weight fell against me, just a little, and he felt heavy and warm and comforting.

Suddenly, he snapped to and pushed me off. “We should get going,” he said, all uncomfortable and straight.

I grinned in spite of myself. “What? Physical contact too much for you? You started it, big guy.”

“That’s not it,” he said, blushing.

“Fine, fine,” I said with a dramatic sigh. “I get it. Some people just aren’t secure enough to cuddle with their best friend while they watch a sunrise.”

“You’re  _ too _ secure, Champlin. It’s a problem,” he said.

I gave him a tense smile, and then I just stood up and started gathering up the beer cans. “I’ll clean up here,” I said, making it clear that Jake had to go. Jake looked momentarily hurt, like he thought I’d just immediately flip into fun and games, but he dutifully stood up and started morphing.

“Call me when you want to talk,” he said, feather patterns appearing on his skin.

“Sure,” I said.

I watched as he disappeared into the sky. 

Have you ever written out a scene from your own life, as if you were the director and producer of all your friends? I sure as hell do. During the war, it was an obsession, a replaying of different scenarios over and over to make sure I saw all the angles. Now, it’s mostly just to load up my famous side splitting jokes. Sometimes it’s to make sure I’m particularly clever during a meeting. Now and then I’m anticipating a fight with my mom. Today, I had expected the scene to play out along these lines:

“Hey Jake, just wanted to check in on the security stuff NASA is so cagey about.” “Yeah, it’s weird how intense they are about it. Wish I could convince them to let loose a little. I’d love it if I had you as backup, my very good buddy Marco.” “Ta-dah! I’ve been following you around all day in morph, memorizing all the crazy codes and procedures along with you.” “Oh wow! What a weight off of my shoulders! I’m so glad that in the event of the tragic death that I am  _ actively aiming for _ , someone capable will be in charge of the ship! You and me man, together forever, partners for life.” “No problem! I’ll just need to borrow your DNA for all procedures that involve retinas and fingerprints. Do you mind?” “Of course not, best friend!” 

A can of Bud flew off the rooftop in a perfect arc, landing with a satisfying metal  _ clang _ when it hit the ground. I kicked another one, just for good measure. I didn’t bother cleaning up anything else. Who cared. No one was going to come up on this roof for months,  _ if _ that.

Slowly, I walked to the edge of the building. I watched the engineers work on the  _ Rachel. _ Some were using blowtorches, and they sparked off the metal like fireworks.

There was no way I was leaving Ax and Menderash in charge of the ship in lieu of Jake. It had to be Jake, or it had to be me. They couldn’t see things the way I could. They couldn’t make the right calls.

I dusted off my shoulder, as if I could remove Jake’s DNA from where he’d touched me. I couldn’t, of course. I’d absorbed it into my blood, and it would be there permanently.

  
  


**AXIMILI**

 

The dome was attached to the _Rachel_ between its two main cannons. Domes were essential to the spiritual wellbeing of a ship’s crew, especially on indefinite journeys like this one. It had already proved to be practical. The lush Andalite plant life provided essential nutrients for Estrid and myself, as well as soil for the humans to garden. Jeanne Gerard had worked out what vegetation might grow in Andalite soil, and had looked into which Andalite plants may be nutrient-rich and palatable to humans. Domes were beautiful and calming. How my rescuers had managed six Earth months without one was a mystery.

It was the first human night after the ship’s launch. We were now firmly in space, with no looking back. (I say that metaphorically, of course. It would be very easy to return to Earth at any point.)

I had morphed human, per Menderash’s request. He wished to share with me some delicacies he had collected on Earth. I typically do not bother with artificial skin while in morph, but I wore my Andalite military outfit as to not upset the Animorphs. It is the only outfit I own. Perhaps I could have borrowed one of Menderash’s garments, but even after my time on Earth mastering the art of artificial skin, I find his clothing difficult. I am barely able to remove the majority of his pieces, never mind wear them myself.

An elevator had been built for dome transportation. It was located toward the end of the large recreational area the humans had built. I walked through it nervously. It felt odd to be wandering through a ship in human morph so brazenly. Were I to do this back on the _Intrepid,_ I would be immediately mocked and perhaps had my sanity questioned by authorities. Of course, that did not stop Menderash and I from exchanging human pleasures with each other or other warriors, but we had to be _very_ discreet.

Tobias and Prince Jake were in the recreation room, watching an Earth program. Prince Jake jumped when he saw me, then narrowed his eyes.

“Marco, you have too many human morphs,” he muttered. “You need a different hobby.”

“It is I, Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill,” I said.

Prince Jake blinked. “You—huh. You don’t look like, uh, you?”

“Of course not,” I said. “The human morph you are most familiar with is a child. It was best to leave it behind for various reasons.”

“It is?” said Prince Jake, sounding genuinely surprised.

I blinked. “Do you think morphs age?” I said.

Prince Jake opened his mouth, then closed it. “I guess I never thought about it,” he said, his face turning slightly red. This happens to humans when they are embarrassed or very warm. I assumed in this context Prince Jake was embarrassed.

I watched as his eyes flicked toward Tobias, then quickly looked away. I suppose he hoped neither Tobias or I noticed. I am sure we both did. Tobias stayed eerily silent and still. I am aware of Tobias’s aversion to his human morph, and know that the gap between his age and his morph’s age was growing unsettlingly large. I am also aware that the red-tailed hawk has a limited lifespan, and that Tobias must make a choice soon. I looked at him, then looked back at Prince Jake.

“Many things accomplished by an _estreen_ may possibly be accomplished by someone without the skill,” I said. “I have seen morph dances that speak of the passage of time, shown by the _estreen_ slowly maturing a morph. Estrid might know how to perform such a maneuver. I should consider looking into it.”

“Only if you want,” said Jake, speaking slowly and carefully. “I’d understand if you wanted to leave it behind. Bad memories and all that.”

“Perhaps,” I said. “That morph holds pieces of a fallen warrior, and it is unsettling to see her eyes in myself. However, I am not sure simply ignoring my old morph is the best solution to those lingering feelings of sadness.”

<I get that you guys are talking about me,> said Tobias.

“Please enjoy the program,” I said, gesturing toward the television screen and hurrying toward the dome.

Walking into the dome was slightly disorientating. The ship was designed to mimic Earth’s twenty-four hour day, but I had asked for the dome to be programmed to mimic homeworld. This would allow Estrid and I to enjoy some internal stability that better reflected our sleep cycles, which I knew from experience would be a much-needed touchstone for us both. As such, I walked from the _Rachel’s_ mimicked twilight into an Andalite afternoon.

I saw Menderash immediately. He was wearing a gown that was more ornate than usual. It was new, and I do not think it was made in _Voktra._ Menderash’s story and eventual notoriety on Earth had led to a few “photo shoots” and “modeling” work, and he spent that “money” on more outfits. Even I could admit that some of his pieces were quite impressive. This gown in particular was made with many fabrics and had many different layers, which was aesthetically pleasing and would be fun to explore when we began to share human pleasure. He was wearing one of his prosthetics, but it was not one designed for practical use. It’s shape was closer to human bone structure than it was an actual arm, and it had been decorated with many crystals and delicate strings of blue jewels. It was quite striking, though could do little more than point and grab large objects.

He smiled at me and my human morph reacted to him in the usual ways. “Prince Aximili,” he said. “I did not expect to see you clothed.”

“The humans find nudity unsettling,” I said.

“So I have learned,” said Menderash. “Please, come sit.”

I did as I was told. Menderash had asked me to the dome with the intent of sharing some human delicacies he had gathered on Earth. He had fashioned the meeting after a human “picnic,” a ritual I had often seen practiced on TV. It could be romantic or platonic. It involved laying a drop cloth on dirt and eating food. I believe the appeal stems from the rarity of humans going out of their houses. Many human celebrations involve doing what they normally do, but outside.

Menderash had clearly spent a great deal of time preparing this picnic. He had a small collection of decorative human platters, which he used to “plate” food in a pleasing manner with cut flowers and lace doilies. I do not understand it myself. Food is meant to be eaten, not admired from afar. However, Menderash had an aptitude for the art. He had an aptitude for many aspects of visual design, something he was rarely allowed to express until he found freedom in the Voktra movement. Menderash was a brilliant engineer from a prominent family and would have never be allowed to dally in such frivolity. In some ways, the thought disheartened me. If he had not been born into such an esteemed position, he might have led a more simple life. He could have gained prominence through cloud art rather than weaponry. He could have expressed his simple and joyful nature more freely. But what is, is, and what is not, isn’t.

I complimented Menderash’s work appropriately and waited for him to begin eating. I had eaten food without properly praising his plating in the past, and he had gotten quite upset.

Though I was very patient, Menderash did not begin eating. He was watching me closely.

“You are troubled,” he said.

I looked down at my human hands. “I apologize for projecting,” I said, and attempted to rein my emotions in.

Menderash shook his head. It was a very human gesture, and perfectly executed. He had learned much among the Animorphs. “You are not projecting,” he said. “It is in your expression.”

“Ah,” I said.

Menderash waited for me to say more. I did not. He sighed, and adjusted his position to allow him to take one of my hands in his.

“Would you like to talk?” he asked me, with a patience that was largely earnest if not somewhat forced. It was an improvement from his past. Menderash would often grow frustrated with my more melancholy moods, expecting them to change when he wished for them to change. Now, after surviving so much on his own, he was more understanding.

I thought of how much more considerate Menderash was becoming, and I let out a breath slowly. I am not used to expressing myself openly, and it can often feel awkward, but I felt as if I owed Menderash honesty. “I am glad for this dome,” I said, “But I wish it was not _this_ dome.”

Menderash tilted his head to one side. “It was your idea to attach it to the ship,” he said.

“I know,” I said. “It is beneficial for us all. I am simply uncomfortable here, for now. My memories of his place are tinged with loneliness and fear.”

His lips quirked into a sad sort of smile. “I suppose,” he said. He reached over to his display of candy, and plucked out of it a Kit Kat bar. I looked at it with anticipation. He placed the bar to my lips. “Then let us make new ones.”

We ate. Some of my people prefer to savor in their human morphs, to roll flavors around on their tongue and take time to understand the depths of it, but Menderash and I were never like that. We both liked to experience flavor in fullness, to take everything in at once and experience taste as one beautiful moment. I began to enjoy myself as such, but I soon slowed down. In the time that I had had many Skittles, Menderash had taken one bite of a Kit Kat bar. He was watching me with a small smile on his face, chewing slowly.

He noticed my hesitation. “Please, enjoy,” said Menderash. “Now that this body is permanent, I cannot consume many sweets at the rate I used to. There is plenty for both you to enjoy and for me to savor.”

I looked into his eyes. Menderash had been able to read my human expression, and I could read his in turn. He had the sort of taut look the Animorphs would get when they claimed they felt nothing toward something they obviously felt quite strongly about. I swallowed my Skittles, and they burned as they went down, like so many capsules of acid.

My eyes flicked toward Menderash’s platter. I noticed, now, that it was less ornate than usual, and that the arrangement did not have any intricate decorations that Menderash would have had to put together on his own. I also noticed that his hair was let down, instead of put up in braids. He was adapting to life with one hand, but it could still frustrate him. I wondered how he felt putting everything together with only one good hand and an imperfect machine. He had put forth a lot of pained effort, and it was all for me, who had done nothing to deserve it.

I folded my hands in my lap, my mood growing ever more dark. Menderash put his hand under my chin and forced me to look up. <Aximili-kala,> he said, switching to thought-speak in order to say my name correctly. I found myself smiling at the sound of it. Menderash always spoke my name with emotional undertones of security and warmth. It reflected how he felt about me in his core.

My smile slowly faded. I shifted my weight. I reached over and grabbed his hand, holding it in my own, and stared down at it.

“We never spoke about the nature of our relationship,” I said. I did not use thought-speak or even spoken Andalite, which is more of a strange sort of experimental trend than a functional language. Slang, really, to put it in Earth terms. Instead, I spoke in English, the language of one of my hearts.

<I never asked,> said Menderash. <It was enough simply to be at your side.>

I dropped his hand and reached over to touch his prosthetic. He looked at me quizzically, then made it rise to meet my gaze. I traced the crystal designs, my eyes locking into their sheen, as if hypnotized. “I am so very sorry,” I said, my voice thick and choked with human tears.

<We have discussed this,> said Menderash. <Please, stop apologizing.>

“It’s not that. Not entirely.” I swallowed back my emotions. Human feelings are felt with the whole of the body. There are tears, of course, and changes of the skin, and a weakness that causes a shake. It annoyed me as much as it beckoned to me. An emotion felt in a tangible way is proof that the emotion happened. I am so torn between my two hearts that at times I do not know what I truly feel. It is cathartic to be in a body that expresses my feelings on my behalf. Right now, my human body was swollen with regret and guilt.

“I have kept much from you, because I never thought you could bear it,” I said. “We are both well aware of the after effects of war. The Academy makes sure we have the tools to navigate them safely. But I—” I stopped speaking, my voice far too choked. Menderash reached over and cupped my face with his hand, gently soothing my skin with his thumb. It is a mimicry of an Andalite kiss and is often done while exchanging human pleasures. It is something I have always found comforting. It did not make it physically easier to not cry, but it helped me make myself calm.

“There are things that happened on Earth, that were done on Earth, that I have kept quiet. I have done things that were not brave. I have done things that were not honorable. I am plagued with memories of deeds that I was never prepared for, that were never discussed in the Academy. There is no plan for where I’ve been. There are no procedures for someone like me.”

Menderash’s hand dropped to his side. <Why did you never discuss this with a healer?> he asked, his tone somewhat accusing.

“Because,” I said firmly. “My memories of Earth are precious, and I fear they would have resorted to removing them.”

Menderash’s face froze with realization. After a time, he nodded. <Yes,> he said. <I suppose they would.>

“I am of two worlds,” I said quietly. “At times, Andalites are raised on other planets, through military bases or occupations, but the children are always surrounded by other Andalites. I was not. I was only among humans. Earth is not just a fascination for me, not in the ways others think. I am not a _nothisshorm._ Earth is who I am. It is my identity.”

<You know I support Earth,> said Menderash. He was slightly offended. <I founded _Voktra_ before I ever met you. >

“I know,” I said. “That is why I feel comfortable with you. You have never once judged me for being Aximili of Earth. You have only been kind and open-hearted. You are unapologetically _you._ You have more status and clout in society than anyone else in our generation, and you wield it to support progressive ideas that _need_ a voice as strong as yours. When you believe in something, you believe in it without doubt. When you enjoy something, you enjoy it with wild and unapologetic glee. When you are angry, you are angry with a directness and a brutal honesty. You are uncomplicated in a rare way that more people should strive to be. I have always feared that you would grow bored of me as soon as you understood who I really am,” I said.

<Well,> said Menderash. <Who are you?>

“I am unsure,” I said, “And that is the problem.”

Menderash pulled both his hand and his prosthetic away. He looked into my eyes with a determined expression, and sent me his feelings of affection and frustration. <Do you think I never noticed how you held yourself from me? How you built yourself a glass fortress, where you could be seen but never touched? I am aware of your faults, and yet I love you. I cannot help but love you. When you were lost to me, I was lost to myself. My love for you gave me little choice but to seek you. Were you to ever decide to reject my love, that would be one thing, but unless that day comes, I can do nothing but love you. If I am uncomplicated, then know I love you for all your complexities without question. I love you and I love you and I love you. That is all I can do, and all I can know, no matter what you choose to share with me.>

He spoke to me simply, plainly. He was not making the sweeping romantic declarations that had become so popular since Earth movies were smuggled into _Voktra._ He has done that to me in the past, and this was much different. He was speaking of facts and inevitabilities. I was crying without shame now, my body filling with the effects of tears. My eyes burned and my head felt tight. It was terrible in a wonderful sort of way.

I wiped at my eyes and forced myself to speak. “I have always thought your love for me was due to my status and tied with your fascination with Earth,” I admitted. “That is another reason I have kept myself from you. I understand that—that that is untrue, and it was unfair of me to assume.”

<Quite,> said Menderash dryly. <I am will admit to being swept away by my interests, but I do not often give up my body and a limb for a passing fad.>

I laughed softly, and it was choked and tear-soaked. “I see that now,” I said.

Menderash leaned over and kissed me again. I knew, then, that it did not matter if it was The One who reached out out to Menderash and asked for Prince Jake or if it was I speaking through our bond. It had happened, and the consequences were both terrible and sweet. He was like me now, someone that was human and Andalite alike. I returned his kiss, and shifted myself to find the zipper of his gown. He began to unbutton my coat. The exchange of human pleasure had begun.

We grew so deep in the ritual that I almost did not notice Estrid emerging from the feeding grounds. I pulled away from Menderash to look at her in shock.

“Where you listening to us the whole time?” I asked.

<Yes,> she said, walking into the elevator. <I thought it would be interesting. It was mostly overwrought and dramatic. Goodbye.>

The elevator doors closed. I looked back to Menderash, who was in my arms with his gown still on at the waist. “Should we have invited her to join us?” he asked.

“Never, _kala,_ ” I said, shaking my head for emphasis.

  


 

**TOBIAS**

 

Hawks keep pretty human hours. Maybe I’m up at literal dawn instead of waiting for an alarm to go off at 7 AM, but it’s all pretty much the same. Wake up, get breakfast, hang out for a while, retreat when it gets dark, sleep. I spend most of my time in the dome, since it helps the hawk feel less trapped, but I’ve been making it back down to my little room when I start to feel sleepy. I liked it in there. It wasn’t much, just a perch, a bookshelf for some stuff Loren gave me, and a little screen that could pull up all the media Marco had loaded up. I really loved that screen. I was slowly catching up on all the books I had only been able to read in spurts back on Earth. Like, I read all about Peter Pettigrew’s betrayal because I found some kid reading the Harry Potter books on the beach, so I was totally spoiled for that, but Voldemort hiding in Professor Quirrell was a _huge_ surprise!

So when the ship’s lights started to dim, me and the other humans would all start toward our quarters around the same time. It’s not like we had a curfew or anything, but I think there was an unspoken attempt at keeping a stable schedule. Back before we found Ax, you could find someone wandering around at any hour. There wasn’t a sense of stability at all. It got sort of weird and stressful. So far, three nights in, we were trying to avoid that.

Tonight, I waited until everyone was definitely sleeping, or at least inside their cabins, and I hopped off my perch and onto the floor. I took a minute to gather myself, to remind myself that nothing bad _actually_ happened when I had to do this, and I morphed human.

There used to be a mirror in my little bird closet, to sort of open it up a bit. I had asked Ax to help take it away. This was why.

My morph finished. I put on the button down and khakis I’d, well, stolen. Look, I didn’t know exactly how to ask anyone to pick me up a size 28x30 pair of pants from the junior section without them bothering me about it, and I figure if I’d saved the planet and didn’t stick around to receive any of the dumb rewards and accolades society wanted to give me, then I at least deserved to grab a sweater when I needed one. They factor in the price of theft into clothes anyway. Rachel explained it all to me one day, toward the end of the war when we were all getting a little loose with our morals. I tried not to think of the way she’d laugh after successfully lifting some dresses from Macy’s, her face in her battle grin but softer and playful, because she was doing something risky that was fun without the looming darkness of war.

I focused on getting myself dressed.

Once I was ready, I snuck out into the hallway. My heart started beating like crazy, but if I knew anything, I knew how to stay calm when my body was going haywire. Mostly because I knew I never had to deal with it for long.

I made my way down to the basement. We all had personal palm pilots and access points to the ship’s computers were pretty much everywhere, but we only had two Z-space communicators. The one on the bridge had to stay open at all times, in case an alien ship needed to hail us. The one in the basement was for us to use. It wasn’t a new feature. We’d always had a Z-space communicator around for personal calls, but only Marco and Santorelli ever really used it.

At first, I had been a little worried that I wouldn’t be able to work the Z-space communicator, but it ended up being okay. The great thing about Andalite-based technology is that you never really have to know how to work it, you just think at it really, really intently until you and the machine get on the same page.

I waited as the communicator made contact. I was filled with nervous energy, but I ignored it. This wasn’t my body. My body was small and light and I’d be back in it in twenty minutes at most.

The screen flickered as the call came online. My heart jumped into my throat, but I stayed composed.

Loren appeared on the screen in full. She was definitely in pajamas. Her night mask was on her head like a headband. I felt my shoulder muscles tense in surprise and I stuck my neck out out of habit. I forced myself to calm down. Hawk body language was really silly on a human, something Marco never let me forget.

“I’m sorry,” I said. It didn’t come out sincere, even to me, but then again, my expression and tone had always been pretty flat even before the war. “It must be late. I probably calibrated something wrong.”

Loren smiled and shook her head. “No worries!” she said brightly. “You warned me Z-space was pretty crazy. Besides, I was already half awake. I wasn’t sleeping well.”

“Why?” I asked, leaning forward. I was suddenly filled with worry that she was sick or that something terrible had happened. I immediately got frustrated at my own reaction. I always had a harder time controlling my thoughts as a human than I did as a bird. Seriously, how do people do this _full time_?

Loren didn’t seem nearly as concerned as I was. “Oh, I thought I’d try having a cup of coffee after 2:00 PM. I’m an old lady; I can’t be doing that.”

“You’re not old,” I said. I winced after I said it. It’s not like it was mean or embarrassing, but it felt like a weird thing to say to your mom.

She just laughed. “I supposed not, not in the grand scheme of things.” She leaned forward, her eyes glistening with some new emotion. “I’m glad you called. I was thinking of you.” She grinned and paused. I realized she was waiting for me to say something.

“Oh, um,” I said, hoping I was giving her the right reaction. “You were?”

Her grin deepened. “Yes,” she said. “I stumbled on some information and while I’ll never truly remember, I felt a sort of—a sort of tug. I think I figured out why I named you Tobias.”

My body stiffened.

“Oh,” I said.

I didn’t know what else to say. I probably should have tried to contribute something, but I couldn’t.

I know I have a weird, old-fashioned name. Kids used to make fun of it all the time. It used to really embarrass me. I tried to go by Toby at a school, once, but that ended up being the name of some kid’s dog so it totally backfired. For a while, it was something that I resented about my missing parents. They gave me this dumb name and then just left? Sometimes I would fantasize that they had this really cool reason, like Tobias was the name of my dad’s father or a good friend of my mother’s. I guess I was going to find out that reason now, and I had a hard time connecting to that reality.

Loren didn’t care that my reaction wasn’t enthusiastic enough. She just smiled. She was never hurt when I said the wrong thing. She understood on some level, I think. It’s probably just because of where she works and how much patience she has to have with people. Sometimes I wonder if it’s some sort of ingrained mom thing, but that’s probably just me fantasizing. I’m smart enough to know better.

“We were studying the deuterocanonical books in discussion group the other day,” she said. “I go to an Episcopal church, so I’m not really familiar with these.”

I made myself nod. I really had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Discussion Group’ was her term for some like-minded friends that wanted to study Christianity. She said it was making her stronger in her relationship with God, which I guess she had been struggling with a lot since the Hork-Bajir Valley. She went on this whole thing about being Christian but also being confused by some of God’s choices, but still loving and trusting God a lot. Or something. It was all really hard to follow. I’ll never be able to get behind it. I mean, I’m apparently a god’s very own great-grandson. That doesn’t mean I don’t believe in Jesus or any of it, I mean, if the Ellimist exists, why not any old god? But it does give me a totally different perspective. I didn’t tell her any of that, though. Really, I think studying anything as intently as Loren studied Christianity was a good thing, no matter what it is. I always connected to myself more when I had something cool to learn about.

I think she could tell I didn’t understand her at all, but she just smiled and moved on. I guess it wasn’t a big enough deal to have to explain. “Anyway, there’s a text called the Book of Tobit,” she said.

“Okay,” I said, still feeling kind of frozen.

“It’s about a pious son who, by believing and trusting in God, drives away the demon plaguing his wife and heals his ailing father,” said Loren. “I’m sure I just named you Tobias because it’s a lovely story, or because Tobias is a pretty cool name.”

“You think so?” I asked.

“You don’t?”

“It’s— I like it,” I lied. I didn’t need to tell her I was teased a lot for my name. She never liked hearing about how much I used to get picked on.

“Good!” she said. “You know, even if I can’t remember much about myself, I _know_ I wasn’t the sort of person to stick her kid with some boring name like John or William. I’m glad you like it.”

“Yeah,” I said.

She leaned toward the Z-space communicator, grinning. Apparently she had something more to reveal. “It’s interesting how names work out though, isn’t it? Loren finds its roots in the laurel tree, which carries a lot of heavy symbolism, mostly due to the myth of Apollo and Daphne. Apollo pursued Daphne so relentlessly that Daphne’s father turned her into a laurel tree to protect her. It’s sort of an ugly story, but so are a lot of those old myths and legends.”

I blinked. “There were a few Greek myth books in one of my school’s libraries,” I said. “I read them over and over. You like that kind of stuff, too? Even if it’s not, um, Christian?”

Loren nodded. “I think all myths and legends have the same beating heart, and I think studying any religion brings you closer to God,” she said. “Plus, they’re all really interesting!”

“Oh,” I said. I felt the warm inner glow I always felt when Loren and I found something in common. I know it’s silly, but I like knowing we have these connections, small as they are. “So why do you like being a laurel tree, then?”

“Apollo declared the laurel tree sacred and it became a symbol of prestige,” said Loren. “But I don’t really see it that way. I think it’s more of a symbol of protection. The laurel tree protected Daphne. I like that my name has that sort of connotation. That’s the thing with Tobias,” she said, her eyes glistening again. “He healed his father with the help of the angel Raphael. His father was blind.”

“Oh,” I said, my emotions falling flat. “Then I bet the Ellimist told you to name me that. He’d have known what would happen after all.”

She looked hurt. I winced. I’d finally done it. I’d had the completely wrong reaction to something and not even Loren could pretend it was okay.

“It’s a really good story,” I said quickly. “I want to read the Book of Tobit one day.”

She seemingly relaxed. “I can send it to you,” she said. “I think I can send email through Z-space? Mertil will know.”

I nodded. Loren and Mertil were roommates, in a way. She lived in a cabin in the woods and Mertil lived in those woods. “He’ll help you,” I said.

We fell silent for a moment, both of us waiting for the other to say something. Loren moved as if to break the silence and announce she was going back to sleep, but then, suddenly, I blurted out, “What else would you have named me?”

Loren cocked her head to one side, processing my sudden question. “What do you mean by that?” she said.

I felt myself blushing. “I, um. It’s just that everyone was talking about it one day,” I said quickly. “All their other almost-names. Jake was actually going to be Rachel—that was their grandmother’s name—but then Jake was born a boy so a few months later Rachel got the name Rachel. If Rachel wasn’t Rachel, she was supposed to be Seth. Marco was going to be Bianca. Cassie didn’t have a boy name because her mom found out the sex of her baby before thinking about names, but she was almost a Sage until her mom changed her mind. Ax was also going to be Aximili either way because Andalites don’t really have boy names or girl names and he was really confused about the whole concept. But aside from the alien part, the whole conversation was something that felt, sort of, normal? And cool? I still remember all of it. I wanted to participate but, you know. I couldn’t. It’s something I always wished I could ask my parents.”

I took a deep breath. I’d said all of that without breathing once. I felt almost dizzy.

Loren pressed her lips together and considered me. She wasn’t laughing at me, she was really thinking about it seriously. That made me feel more awkward than if she’d just laughed.

“It’s not really a big deal,” I said. “I mean, I know you don’t know. You can’t know. I don’t know why I asked.”

“Don’t put yourself down,” she said softly. I should have felt embarrassed, but there was something about her tone that relaxed me. She studied me. “You’re right,” she said slowly. “We’ll never know what I _would_ have named you. That Loren is lost to both of us. But more and more I get a better grasp on who she might have been,” she said, smiling. “I don’t want to answer this, not off the top of my head. When I named you Tobias, I’m sure I put a lot of thought into it, so I want to put a lot of thought into this, too. Next time when people talk about all the names their parents left on the table, I want you to have one, but I want it to be a good one.”

We said a prayer together, which Loren liked to do and wasn’t something that offended me. We said goodbye, and I went back to walking in the halls, and pushing down all the too-intense feelings I felt whenever I talked to my mother.

  


 

**JAKE**

 

We’d been back on the ship for almost a week. The trip to Leera was expected to take around three weeks in Z-space but, as always, it could be much less and it could be much more. For all Andalites claimed they were the most technologically advanced beings in the universe, they still struggled with predicting and wrangling zero space travel.

There was a kind of energy in the air, an excitement that was positive and earnest. It was similar to the energy in the _Rachel_ when we left the first time, but that had been all manic nerves and barely-concealed fear. This was cleaner. Happier. We knew who we were and where we were going. We didn’t know what we’d find on Leera, but we were together, and that helped.

Marco had barely given us time to settle in until he started insisting on group events. He’d decided we all needed to break in the movie projector in the rec room together, and he choose _Groundhog Day_ as the premiere cinematic event _._ Everyone but Estrid came, even if Ax and Menderash were a little worried about leaving the ship in Z-space unmonitored. Marco revealed a drawer full of movie snacks, and they suddenly found themselves completely comfortable with leaving the ship on auto pilot and monitoring her vitals through a portable device.

We had to pause it a lot to explain things to Menderash and sometimes Jeanne, but it was worth it. I now understood Menderash’s constant interruptions and questions about human culture weren’t from frustration and bitterness, but were actually from a genuine place of curiosity and adoration. Mostly. Either way, it made it easier to deal with, even fun. Jeanne was just French.

When you factored in all of the cultural explanations, we’d made this ninety minute film into a two and a half hour event. Once they got to the “I’m a God” scene Menderash wanted to rewind the film and watch the speech Bill Murray gives to Andie MacDowell about all the great things about her. He openly cried, claiming it was a beautiful poem. Santorelli made fun of him, but in the gentle way that only Santorelli could manage. Jeanne asked why American waitresses wore aprons when they didn’t actually work with the food. Marco repeated the question in an exaggerated French accent. Santorelli countered with an eerily accurate Marco impression, which delighted Marco to no end. Ax announced he was out of popcorn. Tobias was quiet, but he had a relaxed aura about him, like he was enjoying observing the group more than the movie.

It was nice. It was friendly. No one was strained, no one was forcing cheerfulness to an obnoxious level. People seemed to genuinely be enjoying themselves and others. Maybe it was because everything was so new, maybe the stress and the bickering would return, but for now it was really, really nice.

I felt something that was both warm and resentful. My goal had been to stop The One, not to go on a luxury cruise with all my friends. Now I was responsible for seven other people. I had seven people to protect and keep safe. It wasn’t what I wanted, not at all, but now that I had support, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to lose it.

I slipped away before the group could unpause the movie, claiming nature’s call. Marco gave me a look that said he knew I wasn’t coming back. I shrugged and left.

There were only six other people in the movie theater bonding and joking. There was one more person on the ship.

I had to keep my crew safe.

I wandered the halls. The sun lamps were all dimmed to help simulate nighttime for the humans, giving the hallways a soft, twilight-like glow. I didn’t go straight to my cabin. I wandered, exploring the ship without worrying about running into someone and having to force social contact. It was nice. It was almost like taking a stroll at midnight back on Earth, except without the threat of a terrorist hiding in a tree and sniping you with an M24. Sure, that only happened once, but it didn’t need to become a habit to sort of ruin the whole moonlit walk thing for me.

I got on the elevator and went down to the basement. I hadn’t spent a lot of time on this floor. Nothing down here was really interesting. There was the med bay, a lot of storage, tons of machinery I didn’t understand. Every room had a see-through glass door to help open up the hallways, but it didn’t do much when every room was unoccupied and dark except for one.

Estrid’s science lab.

I walked for a while, peaking through the doors into the dark rooms. Eventually, I had made a complete circle, ending up in the same hallway with Estrid’s lab. I glanced at it, then wandered toward a storage area that had all its lights on.

I saw one of the cleaning robots, which explained why the motion sensors in the room had been activated. There were a few cleaning bots the ship, all with various shapes and functions. They couldn’t do everything on their own and I’d fashioned a sort of high tech chore wheel with Marco to make sure nothing got neglected, but the robots did all the grunt work. This one was far from humanoid, but it was long and upright, and someone had fastened a French maid uniform on it with pins and tape. I grinned, knowing that was Marco’s handiwork. Everyone knew he used humor to distract and evade, but he also had a pure love of pure silliness.

Not for the first time, I wondered if I had any kind of core concept, any sort of defining trait beyond “nice guy.” I never thought I was much of anything before the war. That’s why I liked hanging out with Marco, even if all the other kids said he was pretty weird. I always thought he was funny and interesting. I don’t think anyone ever would have said that about me. I was always just average.

The robot produced some sort of spray and began wiping down the walls. I watched, transfixed, like the motions of the robot were hypnotizing me. It was incredibly soothing. The robot worked in methodical straight lines, far straighter than an actual human could do.

I pulled myself away and looked back toward Estrid’s lab. The door was closed, but I could see dim blue lights inside.

I glanced down the hallway, making sure no one else was down here.

I looked back at the door. The locks were controlled by Estrid, but my thought-speak signature could override every door in this ship, and I used that ability to quietly sneak inside.

She actually didn’t seem to notice me, which was a little shocking. I was used to Ax and other military Andalites, who kept at least one stalk eye doing a sweep of a room at all times. Estrid had her stalk eyes focused on two different screens, while her main eyes were concentrated on some sort of liquid in front of her. The whole lab was made up of clean metals and silence. I walked forward slowly, careful not to make a sound.

When I was close enough, I said, very quietly, “Hey.”

In a flash, Estrid’s tail blade was at my throat. I sighed and put my hands in my pockets, patiently waiting for her to calm down. When humans are surprised, they jump in the air, maybe make a loud noise. When Andalites are spooked, they try and slit your throat. I think one of us is being a little over dramatic.

Estrid lowered her tail. <I understand that it is necessary for the Captain to have overrides in case of emergency, but if you wander in at the wrong time, you could undo—>

I held my hands up in the air. “This is a one time thing. I just wanted to check in, have a little chat, Captain to his science officer.”

<Science officer?> sneered Estrid. <There are no ranks no this ship.>

“Nevermind,” I said. I leaned over the counter and peered at what she was working on. “What’s this?”

<Nothing you could understand,> said Estrid.

I nodded in agreement. “You’re probably right,” I said. “I never was much of a student. I completely failed seventh grade science, and if I’m being honest? It wasn’t really because I was fighting a war. So you’ll have to report to Menderash.”

Estrid snorted. <Report _what?_ Why? > she asked. <Menderash-Postill-Fastill has no right to my research.>

“He does,” I said firmly, “Because this is my ship, and I want to know what you’re doing, so you’ll tell Menderash.”

Slowly, Estrid turned her whole body toward me, looking at me with her main eyes. She’d realized this conversation was more than a friendly visit. <Is that so?> she asked, dangerous and daring.

“It is,” I said. I walked away from her and looked up at a corner of the room. “You’re smart. Too smart, really. I’m sure you’ve realized we put cameras in here.”

Estrid was silent for a moment. She was struggling with how much she wanted to admit. <Yes,> she said, finally.

“And I’m sure you’ve been trying to figure out a way to tamper with them, or trick them, or somehow hide yourself.”

<I have nothing to hide,> she said, this time without any hesitation. I smiled. She might as well have just announced her plan to secretly destroy the whole ship as far as I was concerned.

“Good,” I said. “Because if you tamper with these cameras, at all, if your hands or thoughts go anywhere near these guys, then this room is gone. And I mean gone. Menderash designed and implemented a shredder blast that will simply dissolve everything in this lab, immediately and completely. There is no chance to create something that would react to the fire. There is no way to counteract it. The room will just be, and then all that it is it will suddenly _not_ be. Do you understand?”

Estrid said nothing. I didn’t expect her to. I continued to move around the room.

“Everything you touch in here is recorded,” I said, running my fingers along a cabinet. “Every piece of equipment has been accounted for, every chemical measured, every chart checked. If we discover anything that looks amiss, we will not give you a second chance. You are here to work toward giving _nothlits_ the ability to morph, and that is it.”

Estrid continued to say nothing.

“Marco, Ax, and Menderash know about these security measures. What they don’t know is that I’m having this conversation with you. They wanted to keep it secret, to let you work unknowing and see what you’d do. They thought that give us a better measure of who you are as a person.”

<Then why are you here?> sneered Estrid.

“Because I don’t think you’re that dangerous,” I said.

Estrid’s tail began to flick back and forth, like she’d lost control of it. <I have no intentions toward harm, but do _not_ underestimate me, _Honorary_ General Jacob Berenson,> she said, biting down bitterly on the word ‘honorary,’ as if I didn’t earn it, as if I hadn’t given up more for that title than the generals that earned the rank traditionally.

I pushed my shoulders back. I picked up an empty glass container and rolled it around in my hands. “That’s what Andalites call me,” I said calmly. “Humans tend to just call me Jacob Berenson, without the title. My friends call me Jake. Ax calls me Prince Jake. When my parents are mad at me, they call me Jacob Isaiah. Do you know what Yeerks call me?” I looked up from the glass container and met her main eyes. Estrid stared back at me, but said nothing.

“They call me Big Jake the Yeerk Killer,” I said.

<That is an achievement,> she said with a bitter sort of respect, but I could tell it was just to save face. There was an avoidance in her stalk eyes and a nervous shifting of weight. I pushed myself up on a counter and sat down.

“I haven’t known you for a very long time,” I said. “Yet, in that time, you have threatened entire genocides. Twice. But no matter how many times you build a gun, you never seem to pull the trigger. Have you ever taken a life?”

She fidgeted.

“I asked a question,” I said.

<No,> said Estrid.

“That’s what I thought,” I said. “Do you know why they call me Yeerk Killer?”

She hesitated, but this time she answered the question without prompting. <Because you and the Animorphs stopped the invasion of Earth,> she said.

“No,” I said. “It’s because when I was on a Pool ship, someone told me there were seventeen thousand, three hundred seventy-two innocent and unhosted Yeerks that could easily be emptied into space. I gave the order to do it. Do you know why I gave that order?”

<No,> she said, and I could feel her barely contained fear.

I jumped off the counter and got close to her, close enough that she could see every fleck of hazel in my eyes.

“Because I was feeling petty,” I said.

The words dropped in the room like a stone. In a way, it felt good to just say it, to just admit it. I had been a tired kid throwing a tantrum. No one ever wanted to word it like that, but that’s what it was, and thousands of sentient lives are gone because of it.

In another way, in a darker and scarier way, it felt _amazing_ to say it, and to use it to my advantage. I had no core concept of self. I had just been an average kid, someone who hated indoor recess and looked forward to pizza night. I’d emptied myself of whoever that was and replaced it with a soldier. It was nice to own it. Nice that it was useful.

Estrid stepped away from me, a movement both reflexive and protective.

I started toward the door. “You did not finagle your way on to my ship because you are clever,” I said, keeping my head held high. “A clever person would have stayed far, far away from me. You did it because you are shortsighted and prideful, and now I am stuck with you. If you don’t earn my trust, I will get rid of you. There’s enough blood on my hands that your death won’t even leave a stain. Do you understand?”

<Yes,> she said.

“Good,” I said. I left the lab.

I felt both heavy and empty as I left, which I guess is what I expected. I’d been meaning to have that conversation for a few days, but I knew it’d leave me feeling numb. I paused in front of the room with the lights on, intending to watch the robot for a while. Just as I was about to look inside, the door flung open, and the robot flew past me, French maid uniform and all.

I folded my arms over my chest. “Perfect comedic timing as always,” I muttered to an invisible Marco, leaning against the wall opposite the door.

I stayed there for a moment, like my body had just turned itself off. I stared at the glass door, both seeing and unseeing, staring less at the door and more at the space in front of it. I didn’t move for a long, long time, thinking of nothing and everything all at once. I was so out of it that I almost didn’t notice that something was very off.

The light was still on, well after it should have turned itself off.

I frowned. Slowly, I moved to another storage room. I walked it and triggered the light sensor. I walked back out and waited for the room to go dim again. It did after about a minute. In that time, the light in the other storage room stayed bright.

I pulled my palm pilot out of my pocket and pressed the button to turn on thought reading. _Get everyone down to storage room F, now. Something’s inside,_ I recorded. I sent the message in text form to Marco and Ax, allowing them to control any panic. Then, I looked at the door. I could almost feel Marco’s hand on my shoulder and hear his voice telling me to wait for backup, but I also knew I could handle myself. Whatever was in there was on _my_ ship, and I wasn’t pleased at all.

I opened the door and stepped in. I’m not sure exactly what I expected, but what I saw certainly wasn’t it.

In front of me was a simple human girl. She was short and sleight but muscular, with pale blonde hair and wide gray eyes. She was sitting in what was like a strange sort of campsite. She had a pink sleeping bag sprawled out on the floor with two pink suitcases behind it like a headboard. A cat— and actual _cat—_ jumped from her lap and hid behind some boxes.

Even if it had been years since I’d last seen her and she’d grown a little, I still recognized the girl immediately.

“Melissa Chapman?” I asked, unable to contain my complete surprise. My voice even broke like I was fourteen all over again.

She squared her shoulders back and pointed her chin, attempting to look confident and secure even though she was visibly shaken and already crying. “I can explain!” she said.

“ _Can_ you?” I asked, my mouth agape, my eyes wide.

She looked up at me with a quivering lip. “I was Cassie’s assistant,” she said, her voice choked with tears. “I know all about this ship and where it’s going and why and I wanted to come too.”

“ _Why?_ ” I asked.

She sniffed and took a deep breath. “I don’t care what you do or what you say or if you want me to stay or not. My mom’s on the Blade ship, and I’m going to find her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it I finished it! Well, THIS arc, at least. There's going to be more. Eternal thank you to my beta [Cavatica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cavatica). Thank you to [Senri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Senri) for her beta comments on the epilogue. Also thank you to [Catie](http://c-rowlesdraws.tumblr.com/), [allergenorchid](http://allergenorchid.tumblr.com/) and [elenorasweet](http://elenorasweet.tumblr.com) for their amazing support and especially for their hand holding through the epilogue. Stay tuned for The Rachel: Melissa Chapman coming, uh, you know. At some point later in time.


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